


Belladonna Black and the Book of Necromancy

by BelladonnaCarinaBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Enemies to Friends, Family, Friendship, Gen, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hogwarts, Humor, Malfoy Manor, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Necromancy, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Parseltongue, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Reincarnation, Rituals, Slytherin, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaCarinaBlack/pseuds/BelladonnaCarinaBlack
Summary: Thirteen years after The Battle of Hogwarts, two wizarding children are about to embark on their own adventure. They both have been lied to their entire lives. Before their first year is over, secrets will be revealed, friendships will be tested, and death itself will never be the same.Belladonna Black has known about magic her entire life, but she has never seen a game of Quidditch, never been to Diagon Alley, and never even left Malfoy Manor. Her best friends Scorpius Malfoy and Catherine Goyle, have always been free to do these things, with one condition: they must never mention Belladonna to the outside world.James Potter has grown up on the fringes of the wizarding world. He does not know why whispers always follow his family whenever they venture into public, perhaps it is because his mother is a former professional Quidditch player, and his father is Head of the Auror Department. What causes the whispers?Each went to Hogwarts looking for answers, but what they find is more than they bargained for. Because they are not the only people at Hogwarts looking for answers. And some questions should not even be asked, for the answers can do more than reveal the past, some answers can bring it back to life.





	1. After the Battle

 

 

 

 

 

After the Battle

 

 

     The cloaked man limped hurriedly through the tall dark trees, tripping over their roots as he cursed the little witch whose jinx had seared his leg. Exhausted, Yaxley leaned against the tree as he once again tried to disapparate. “Still inside the grounds,” the wizard muttered under his breath as he once again began to limp another one hundred meters before repeating the procedure.

  
     Through his cursing, Yaxley suddenly heard the distant sound of pursuit — snapping twigs and the shouting of young voices. Yaxley broke into a desperate shuffling run. He was the only one of the inner circle who had not been on the front lines earlier that night—the only one likely to escape, certainly with his freedom, and perhaps with his life. If he did not escape the Hogwarts grounds, all that was not already lost would be gone. The sounds of those cursed students told Yaxley that they were taking two long steps to each of his short tortured ones. Yaxley would fight if he must, but it was better to run. Someone had to reach the girl before the Ministry found her, and he was the only one left. Just as Yaxley thought that he had somehow lost his way, he felt a sensation like passing through a single sheet of mist and Yaxley let out a soft sigh of relief. He was free.

  
     Long before his pursuers could ever have seen him, Yaxley disapparated hundreds of kilometers away into a small side alley off a busy London street. The smell of dank air assaulted his nose, as small creatures scurried away from the intruder. The alley that was usually lifeless tonight held a sleeping beggar who had been awakened by the sharp crack of Yaxley’s arrival. The small old man wrapped in a ragged blanket blinked blearily at the strange sight before him. A man in a long black cloak with a silver mask hanging from his belt. Even more disturbing was the hole in his leg that was seeping blood. But most disturbing of all to the beggar, though he could not have explained why, was the polished black stick that was currently being brandished at his face.

  
     Yaxley was as startled by the beggar in the alley as the beggar was by Yaxley. “Bloody Hell!” he exclaimed as he hastily trained his wand on the old muggle’s face. Usually, the Death Eater would have just ignored both the complex orders of the Dark Lord and the muggle in the alley, but tonight of all nights protocol must be followed. _No evidence can be left behind of my passage, thought Yaxley._

  
     The tip of the wand glowed and Yaxley whispered “Obliviate.” The muggle’s eyes glazed over and he slumped back to the ground, all traces of Yaxley wiped from his mind. Leaving the muggle behind, Yaxley cast a disillusionment charm upon himself and joined the crowd moving along the street for the requisite kilometer. Satisfied that he was not being followed, Yaxley again disapparated to another alley, and there walked along unnoticed. This operation was to be repeated three times before an approach was ever made to the house. _Some had said the Dark Lord had grown paranoid near the end, but tonight, _thought Yaxley, _the precautions do not seem quite as silly as they had in the past.___

  
     The house was at the end of a long wooded drive, and it relied on the anonymity provided by the hundreds of muggle houses surrounding it for protection rather than layers of charms. As Yaxley strode up the drive he tried to decide where to go after he collected the child. They could not stay here, that was a certainty. The number of Death Eaters who knew the secret the house contained had always seemed small, too small at times. With the defeat a few hours earlier, that number had multiplied into nothing but potential traitors. Even someone who would rather die than reveal the existence of the child might not have that choice. Not in the hands of the Ministry.

  
     The door of the house was heavy and could only be opened with a wand as there was no keyhole. This was considered a necessary precaution, as although the child’s squib caretaker was bound by loyalty as well as spells, one could never be too careful. This was yet another precaution taken by the Dark Lord that Yaxley was intensely grateful for tonight, as news of the defeat would travel on the wings of rumor. _It may have even beaten me here, _Yaxley thought. _The woman…I can never remember her name… might have tried to flee the house before the Ministry inevitably found it. It was better that she could not take the child even if she wanted to.___

  
     Yaxley sensed two heartbeats in the house, one slow and labored, and the other the quick light beats of the very young. The sounds emanated from the largest room on the second floor of the house. _They were in the child’s nursery then. _Yaxley climbed the stairs to the second floor, wincing occasionally when his wounded leg twinged as it hit the treads.__

  
     Yaxley’s eyes scanned the room as he stepped through the door, and he found the old woman sitting in a rocking chair facing the window. The first buds of spring were just visible on the branches of an oak tree through the panes of glass. She was holding the sleeping child in her arms, rocking slowly back and forth. It took a moment for her to notice Yaxley in the doorway, and she gave a little jump of fright, although she really should be used to strange people appearing unexpectedly at all hours of the day and night. The woman shook herself, stood up, and laid the child in a crib that was pushed against the wall next to the window. _Hannah…that was her name, _thought Yaxley as she cautiously approached him.__

  
     Yaxley was still standing in the doorway, and as Hannah approached the Death Eater, the moonlight filtering through the leaves of the tree outside the window illuminated his face enough to render him recognizable. She let out the breath that she had been holding since she sensed the other presence in the room. _It was only Yaxley. Not exactly a welcome visitor, but not as bad as it could have been. Not nearly as bad as it could have been. _“Hello Sir,” said Hannah, valiantly keeping her voice from shaking. Almost.__

  
     The moonlight also illuminated the squib’s face for Yaxley. _She was tense, as she should be, _he thought to himself with a little flicker of pleasure. _All the things this woman has seen and she still fears me. However, she was not terrified, as she would have been if the news of the defeat had already reached her ears. But how could she have known, a squib and a baby locked alone in a house? _Yaxley cleared his throat and ordered “Come downstairs, I have need of you in the kitchen.” He turned and stalked out of the room and down the stairs, trying vainly not to limp. He did not even wait to see if Hannah would follow him.____

  
     When he reached the kitchen, Yaxley flicked his wand at the lights, and they flared into sudden brightness. He collapsed into the nearest chair, and finally allowed his eyes to close for a few moments until he heard her heavy tread on the bottom stair. Yaxley propped his leg, still bleeding, on the other wicker chair and watched the open doorway. His eyes followed Hannah as she entered the room and he saw her eyes widen as they fell upon his leg. Hannah had not really been surprised when Yaxley had appeared upstairs, because for the past five months they had always come unexpectedly. Ever since she took this job to keep her granddaughter out of Azkaban for ‘stealing magic’ every few days one or another of them had shown up to check on the baby. It was not the visits of the ordinary Death Eaters that she had come to truly dread. But this was not what usually happened. This was so far outside the norm as to be as frightening as the other visits. No injured Death Eater had ever come to check on the child. The whispers of a battle that she had been hearing for the past three weeks must have been true. And by the looks of it, things had not gone well for her masters. These thoughts passed through Hannah’s head in the few seconds that Yaxley’s eyes had been boring into hers. She felt her blood turn to ice.  
The woman stood frozen just over the threshold and Yaxley was suddenly filled with annoyance at his situation. “You were a muggle midwife before we found you, were you not squib…using your small knowledge of potions to trick them?” he growled. Hannah’s head started to nod feverishly and Yaxley grinned a sickly smile. “What are you waiting for then?” She scurried out of the room, looking for the basket that she had brought with her into this new existence.

  
     The woven basket was on the top shelf of the hall closet, and she had to climb onto a living room armchair in order to reach it. _It is at times like these, _Hannah reflected, feeling a twinge of annoyance despite the circumstances, _that being born a squib is a real pain. _When she at last grasped the handle and had brought the basket to rest on the armchair, Hannah considered her options. _There is a vial of essence of Murtlap, and some bandages. That would heal the awful Yaxley, but there is also a little left in the bottom of the hemlock bottle. A little of that on his wound and well… my Yaxley problem would be gone forever. _Hannah stared at the two little bottles winking up at her from their velvety nest and deliberated. After a few seconds she picked up the bandages and the Murtlap. _It is probably better not to risk it. The Death Eaters—awful as they are—have never harmed me, and if Yaxley caught me I would be the one gone forever._______  
After what seemed to be an interminably long interval to Yaxley and his throbbing leg, Hannah reappeared with her arms full of bandages and glass bottles. His eyes followed her as she took a few little bowls out of the cupboards and filled one of them with water. The old woman took a seat on the other wicker chair and examined his leg. It did not look overly pleasant, as little bits of sticks and leaves from the Forbidden Forest had become encrusted upon the still-bleeding wound in his flight from the castle.

  
     Hannah began to clean the wound with the water and her precious potions. As she worked, her fear of Yaxley began to dissipate. He could not even keep still as she worked on his leg. He was constantly flinching slightly away from her as she pulled off the leaves and scrubbed away the dirt. The Death Eater almost pulled his leg off the table when she rubbed the Murtlap on the leg before wrapping and pinning it. Comforted by the familiar routine, when she had finished Hannah brusquely said, “You can take off the bandages by morning, and you can walk on it in about half an hour.”

  
     Yaxley gave a tight little smile at this. He had been afraid that he would have to wait to leave the house until morning. His leg would not have held his weight much longer, much less that of a child who would soon no longer be a baby. Besides, before he left he would need some more information before he could take the child away from this place forever. “How long have you been with the child?” asked Yaxley.

  
     Hannah started at the unusual question. Most of the time her visitors confined their few questions to ‘Is the child healthy’ and ‘Does she need anything’. Hannah’s answers usually amounted to yes, and no…the money and the quick trips to the shops in Diagon Alley with her escort of the week were more than enough. In fact in the months of the child’s life this routine had only been broken once, when at six weeks the baby had fought a chill. After that experience, Hannah would gladly pray to any god who would listen that the baby would never so much as sneeze again. Busying herself for a few seconds of clearing away the bowls and scraps of cloth she decided that the truth in as few words as possible was her best option. “I was hired because I was working as a midwife, and after the birth they kept me on to care for the baby,” replied Hannah. She returned to her seat by the table.

  
     “You helped at the birth?” asked Yaxley. That was the end of the squib then. If she could provide proof of the child’s parentage she could not be allowed to leave alive, even with her memory modified. Not that there was ever much chance of Hannah being allowed to leave alive even before the disastrous events of the last few hours.“Yes,” Hannah replied suddenly reading a slight change in Yaxley…one that she did not like. She hurried on, “I am essential to the child’s well being, I have been her nanny from her first breath.”

  
     Yaxley eagerly leaned forward in his seat and continued to question the woman. “What exactly do you do for the child? What does she need?”

  
     So Hannah told him. Because she had sensed that when she finally ran out of things to say a decision would be made, she told him as much as she could remember in extreme detail. Every feeding and story that had gone into the child’s short life went into her tale. When she finally ran out of things to say she looked into Yaxley’s eyes.

  
     Yaxley stood up on his half-mended leg. “Thank you,” he said to the woman. As he brought up his wand her eyes widened and she bolted for the door, instinct taking over even as she must have known that it would not open for her. Yaxley’s wand finally pointed at her chest and his whispered spell flew into her heart, stopping it in an instant. He was already turning to leave the room as her body fell to the floor. Once again in the girl’s nursery, he approached the crib under the window. She must have heard something of the scuffle downstairs because she was sitting up in her crib. In the moonlight, Yaxley could see her blinking those strange eyes—green as the leaves on the tree outside her window. Some said those strange eyes, so unlike her parents’, were what had caused her exile to the little house. Others said that she would have been hidden away even if she had been the reincarnation of Salazar Slytherin himself. She made no protest as Yaxley lifted her from her crib and took her out of the only house she had ever known. She was asleep before Yaxley’s feet stopped crunching on the gravel of the drive. As soon as they were at a safe distance he turned to face the house one last time. When he turned back, a fire was already consuming it.

  
     Tomorrow he would decide where to take her. Some would surely escape Azkaban, through flight or simply through the Ministry’s helpful insistence on evidence in trials. Even the Malfoys would probably wriggle out of things again. They could always simply bribe themselves out of trouble. All Yaxley had to do was keep the last hope hidden until things settled down.


	2. The Hidden Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel finally receives her letter and talks her way into being allowed to go to Hogwarts. Her first adventure into the wizarding world: shopping in Diagon Alley

The Hidden Girl

 

 

     The girl staring back at her from the mirror did not look very happy. In fact, she looked positively livid. Her wild black hair was doing its usual impression of a centaur’s mane. Bel was fairly sure that the curls had managed to eat several bobby pins, but as it would be impossible to find them in the mass she could not prove it. Even though she was much too old for the stool that she was standing on, she had to use it in order to see the mirror on her dresser. Her cheeks stood out red against her pale skin, as they always did when Bel was angry. Her bright green eyes flashed in the mirror. On top of all that, they were threatening to keep her back from Hogwarts this year. Again!

     Bel was not supposed to know this yet of course, but even if she was forbidden to ever leave the grounds of Malfoy Manor, Scorpius and Cat were allowed more freedom. Not very much, but enough to smuggle some extendable ears from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes into the house. The three of them had been tutored together in the Manor since she was five, and it was not very many years after that that they had begun to listen at doors. It was Cat’s idea, as they always were, but after the first few tours on kitchen duty, Bel had taken over the planning and execution of their escapades. It had always been obvious that theirs was not a normal childhood, and that the rules that applied only to _her_ were even more draconian than those that governed her friends. But it was only after they started eavesdropping that things started to get really strange.

     It always started out the same way. Friends of Uncle Lucius, Scorpius’s grandfather, would start to arrive just after midnight. They would appear on the front stoop in black cloaks and under the cover of darkness and they would stay exactly one day. She would be required to be at breakfast, all three of them were, but Scorpius and Cat were always allowed to eat in peace. Bel, however, had to endure an endless string of questions from the guests. When this was finally over, Bel and her friends would be sent out of the room. Lessons were always cancelled and they were left to their own devices while all the adults in the house locked themselves in the dining room. Not even the house elf, Saeth, was assigned to watch them.

     This was the critical mistake made by the adults. For years there had been an illicit audience of three children trying to make sense of their lives from the scraps of information that filtered through the crack under the door. In the past six years of listening to these meetings two or three times a year, they had learned depressingly little. Most of the conversations were conducted in what could only be described as code. It was as if the witches and wizards in the room were worried about eavesdroppers much more important than three children. In fact, Bel and her accomplices had only learned three pieces of real information. The older witches and wizards in the room were what was left of the Dark Lord’s inner circle of Death Eaters. This, while no doubt interesting to the Ministry of Magic, came as no surprise to any child growing up in the Manor with half a brain. The second was that Bel was, for some inscrutable reason, _important_ to them. The third was that they were deathly afraid that the truth, whatever it was, would come out if Bel were allowed to attend Hogwarts.

     This was the life of secrets that Bel had lived for all thirteen years of her life, and she was sick of it. If the answer was at Hogwarts, then that was exactly where she was going to go. Two extra years trapped in the huge old house was enough, and she was going off to school with her younger friends. Bel stared at her alarm clock and sighed. She had stayed in her room too long and soon “BELLADONNA BLACK, CATHERINE GOYLE, SCORPIUS MALFOY GET DOWN HERE NOW!” that would happen. They were late and if they were not downstairs in thirty-seconds, Uncle Lucius would come and get them.

     Bel bounced off her bed and darted out through the door. She was almost mowed down by Cat and Scorpius making a similar dash down the staircase. The fact that her friends had grown taller than her small frame in the past year only fueled her determination to escape. As the trio finally skidded to a halt in front of Lucius on the Persian rug at the bottom of the stairs they could hear the sounds of breakfast already being served and the hushed voices of wizards used to living in hiding, or on the edges of society. Lucius glared indiscriminately at all three of the children, even Scorpius, and growled, “Inside. Now.”

     Bel, Scorpius, and Cat filed into the room, past the two tables already occupied with twenty-five adults. Scorpius and Cat took one look at the smaller table occupied by the oldest of the adults and gratefully took their own seats at the larger table that included both sets of their parents. Bel herself walked past her friends and followed Lucius to the smaller table. There were only ten seats at the small table, and eight of them were already occupied. The seats at the very center of the table were unoccupied and Bel took her seat on the right of Uncle Lucius.

     On Bel’s right was her ‘father’ Argyre Yaxley. That lie was one of the first to unravel. For one thing they had never come up with a satisfactory story about her mother. In the span of two weeks, Bel, Scorpius, and Cat had collected six different stories on that topic from as many adults. They ranged from Uncle Lucius’s ‘she died before you were born,’ Aunt Narcissa’s ‘her name was Emma and she died in the Battle,’ to the classic ‘err…let me think about it’ from Yaxley himself. It also did not take a genius to figure out that the last names of children and parents usually match.

     Breakfast was an interminable boor, and Bel must have answered a hundred questions from her table mates. As Saeth cleared the last plates of half-eaten eggs and sausages, Bel grabbed her chance to ask her question. “Yaxley said last year that this year I would be allowed to go to Hogwarts with Scorpius and Cat. I know that a special charm prevented the Ministry from recording my birth or putting the trace on me, but how is my name going to get back _on_ the list this year?”

     A silence spread over the table; it was so thick it seemed to spread even to the clinking of silverware on china. Bel saw quick glances flitting between the adults, and as they centered on Uncle Lucius, Bel fastened her attention on him as well. Sure enough it was Uncle Lucius, not Yaxley, who answered her question. “We thought that since you were doing so well here it might be best for you to continue your education here at the Manor. You can get a wand from Ollivander’s and start to learn some spellwork. That way you will be ahead of your classmates next year.” He smiled kindly at her, obviously expecting her to agree quickly enough.

     Throughout his speech Bel had felt her heart pounding furiously, and the magic that she always kept hidden deep in her chest started to well up faster than she could tamp it down. When Lucius smiled down at her she could contain it no longer. Her magic left her with the full force of an explosion and the room dissolved into chaos. The ancient goblin-made chandelier exploded into a thousand glimmering shards of crystal and fell onto the oak panels of the floor. Scorch marks appeared on the cream wallpaper as if kissed by an invisible, heatless flame. The Death Eaters instinctively cast shield charms, somewhat containing the carnage, while Scorpius and Cat dove under the table.

     When Bel’s magic had spent itself and the screaming of the wind had abated, the room once again fell silent. Even Bel’s tears slowly slipping down her face were silent. She did not gasp for breath or shake, only stared into the distance with a glazed look in her eyes as tears fell onto her hands folded tightly in her lap. The adults in the room were shocked; Bel could see it in their faces. Bel had never lost control of her magic, not even in the little ways common to wizarding children. Wind had never appeared when she cried as a toddler, and no fire had conjured when she was angry. Her toys had always played back, but only when she willed them to. This may have been why they had felt comfortable putting off training her for so long while her magic had matured and grown stronger, Bel reflected. Now they were frightened and realized something had to be done. As the tears dried on her cheeks, Bel felt a smile growing on the inside. Perhaps she could work this to her advantage.

 

✶ ✶ ✶

 

     The next few weeks were a flurry of preparations, and there was no longer any talk of delaying Bel by another year. Bel was elated, and even the endless memorization and quizzing on her newly concocted cover story could not deflate her mood. Exactly one week after three creamy letters with emerald ink and fat purple wax seals had arrived by the morning owl post, the day that Bel would finally set foot in Diagon Alley had arrived. The chauffeur was driving the black Mercedes towards London. Bel, Scorpius, and Cat sat on the leather bench seats facing Scorpius’ grandparents. It had been decided that taking all three children together would afford some protection, and as they had studied together for years it should not be considered too unusual. None of the parents were coming, as it would be obvious to anyone seeing them together that Yaxley and Bel were not closely related. The trip was an hour long and of course Uncle Lucius had decided that this would be the perfect time to conduct a final cross-examination of the children.

     The questions flew quickly and all three were on their toes, as according to Uncle Lucius, a single wrong answer would land them each a one way ticket back to the Manor. “Why are you here with Belladonna?” fired Lucius.

     Cat started and replied, “We are all tutored at Malfoy Manor. We started when we were five.”

     “Where are your parents?” This time it was directed at Scorpius. “They were busy, so my Grandparents offered to take us as a trip.”

     After a few minutes of this rapid-fire questioning, Bel felt her heart sink as Uncle Lucius turned his steely gaze upon her. “I have never seen you around before. Who are you? When is your birthday?”

     Bel tried to slow her heart, “My parents were Abraxos and Miranda Black. They died in the battle, and my Uncle Yaxley raised me. Until last year I was very sick, and Yax…Uncle Yaxley didn’t think I would be able to go to Hogwarts.”

     “I was born on March 29th, and I turned 11 a few months ago.” said Bel, but she thought the real answers to herself. _My name is Belladonna Black, and I have no parents, only lies. I don’t know why I was never allowed out of Malfoy Manor or the brick house with the swing before it. I was always told that I was born on February 16th, 1998, but that could be a lie too. My entire life has been a lie, and I am going to find out why._

     Uncle Lucius’ questions finally subsided, and Bel dug out her precious letter from the pockets of her robe. Over the past weeks she had read it so many times that the envelope had become battered, and the emerald ink was smudged in places, but it was still legible.

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

 

 

Headmistress: MINERVA MCGONAGALL

_(Order of Merlin, Second Class)_

Dear Miss Black,

     We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

     Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no laterthan July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Filius Flitwick,

_Deputy Headmaster_

 

The other piece of parchment had been read nearly as many times, and Bel was oddly glad she had been able to keep her copy, as Uncle Lucius had taken Scorpius’ to use as a shopping list.

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

 

 

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

 

 

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following: _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Tremble

 

 

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

 

 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

 

     Bel carefully refolded the parchment sheets and stuck them back in their envelope. She put the letter back in the pocket of her robes, and soon the outskirts of London started to appear outside of the windows of their Mercedes. For the first time Bel saw a muggle city and it was strange and wonderful. She had seen photos and videos of the outside world through the illicit internet connection and iPods that Scorpius had smuggled into the Manor courtesy of Weasley’s. But the real thing felt very different—the muggle world no longer safely contained behind its glass case but swirling all around them, completely unaware of the existence of their world. It was scary and intoxicating.

     Uncle Lucius must have taken pity on her, because upon seeing her nose pressed against the magical one-way glass of the car he ordered the driver to detour past some of the sights. Aunt Narcissa had moved next to Bel unnoticed and softly narrated the drive, pointing out the Eye, where the Millennium Bridge used to be (Uncle Lucius snorted at that point), the Tower, and Westminster Abbey. They spent over an hour touring the city and even Scorpius and Cat, who had seen London a few times before, were soon caught up in Bel’s excitement. By the time they finally reached the alley where the Leaky Cauldron and the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley were located, all three were starving.

     Uncle Lucius reached across the car and caught Bel’s wrist as she leaped to open the door as soon as the car had stopped moving. His iron eyes locked upon hers as he reminded her one last time, “I can’t emphasize enough how important it is for Bel that all three of you remember the story that we practiced, and stick to it no matter what happens. Even if you are..separated from Narcissa and I you must not panic—only say what we have rehearsed.” Bel had never seen him look so old, and the silver slowly consuming the blond in his hair was more noticeable than ever before. But Uncle Lucius smiled and released her, “Come on then, let’s find some food. You three have been complaining about your stomachs for the past half hour.” So they all piled out of the Mercedes, which then drove off.Bel skipped toward the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, eager to finally meet the wizarding world she had heard about her entire life. The room was small and smoke-filled, with only a few patrons seated at the oak tables or the bar. Only a few glances followed the party as they quickly passed through the bar into the back courtyard. Uncle Lucius lifted his walking stick, and the snake’s head beat a quick tattoo on the brick wall. Bel jumped back as the grinding of the bricks slowly revealed a passage onto a sunlit street. It meandered off into the distance, and it seemed to contain every wonder from the four corners of the world to Bel, and perhaps to Cat and Scorpius too, as she caught them grinning like idiots out of the corner of her eye.

 _If Muggle London was incredible, this is something else entirely,_ thought Bel. She barely restrained her impulse to race off down the crooked street and look at everything. Too fast for Bel’s taste, Uncle Lucius led them quickly down the street to Florean Fortescue’s _Ice Cream Parlor!_ They almost never got dessert, and Bel and her friends could hardly believe their luck as three heaping cones were handed over the counter. Even Bel’s knowledge that they probably were only getting ice cream because Uncle Lucius wanted them to look as harmless as possible could not dampen her excitement. They strolled down the street, looking at the different shops as Bel devoured her ice cream. This time it was Bel who kept up a rapid fire barrage of questions between bites of her pink ice flavored cone. She lapped up the answers to her questions—finally as many answers as questions—as quickly as her ice cream. Only one question brought on a pause from Uncle Lucius. It stemmed from a dark side street that Bel wanted to explore.

     “That is Knocturn Alley, and we cannot…it would be unwise for us to be seen down there. Perhaps next year we can take precautions and take a look at it but not today, Bel.”

     “Why can’t we go look at the shops there?” queried Scorpius, “I can see shrunken heads in the window of that one!”

     “Knocturn Alley sells Dark artifacts,” replied Uncle Lucius resignedly. “People would talk if Malfoys were seen there, and we do not want people talking, especially now. Come along.” Uncle Lucius continued walking, picking up his pace, and Aunt Narcissa hurried the children along after him.

     When the children had licked the last sticky drops of melted ice cream from their fingers, the group finally turned their attention to the letters containing the Hogwarts first year supply lists. For the thousandth time Uncle Lucius inspected the list, and changed course. He led them down to the south end of Diagon Alley, to a small shop with gold lettering on the wooden sign. Ollivander’s Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Bel observed Uncle Lucius had a sour look on his face for an instant before he pushed his way into the shop. Scorpius followed right behind him, and Cat and Bel were pushed in by Aunt Narcissa, who also seemed strangely unhappy. The shopkeeper looked to be in her early thirties, with brown hair pulled back from her face, dark blue robes, and small silver glasses. She spared only a single hate-filled look at the older Malfoys before turning to the children.

     “I am Madam Ollivander, and I assume you are here for your first wands.” This was spat so brusquely at the trio that Cat took a half-step back. Bel reflexively took a step forward in front of her friend as Ollivander slammed long boxes on the counter. A magic measuring tape swirled around Scorpius, being none too gentle in taking hundreds of tiny measurements that seemed totally useless to Bel. Ollivander stalked out from behind the counter, snatched the tape away from Scorpius and threw it at Cat, who squeaked. The wand maker snatched a box off the counter and thrust a wand at Scorpius. “Blackthorn. Twelve and three quarters inches. Dragon Heartstring.” Scorpius took the wand but immediately dropped it with a yelp, as it stung his palm. Bel watched as Scorpius went through dozens of wands while the aggressive tape measure continued to assault Cat.

     After nearly ten minutes and well over fifty wands Madam Ollivander, who had finally grown more bored than rude, said “Aspen, Thirteen inches, Dragon Heartstring.”

     When Scorpius took this wand from Ollivander’s hand the shop grew quiet for the first time, as the wand gave no protest over its new situation. Ollivander sat up in her chair and motioned Scorpius to wave the wand. Wary of more destruction, Scorpius moved the tip of the wand a few inches, but the only reaction was a small light glowing from its tip. Ollivander gave a curt nod and turned her attention to Cat. A wave of her wand transferred the tape’s ministrations to Bel, and battling the tape took up all of her attention so that she missed most of her friend’s choosing.The tape finally finished with her just in time for Cat’s final wand. “Dogwood, Twelve and one quarter inches, Dragon heartstring.” Cat’s wand created a breeze that softly rustled her hair as it played around the shop.

Madam Ollivander motioned Bel toward the counter, and looking slightly confused, asked, “Who exactly are you?” Her eyes scanned Bel from her bright green eyes and wild black hair to her five-foot frame.

     This was the first question Bel had gotten all afternoon and her heart started to beat quickly in her chest. “My name is Bel Black, and my guardian is Uncle Yaxley, but I study at the Manor.”

     Ollivander gave a satisfied grunt and turned back to the dusty shelves filled with wand boxes. The first wand Ollivander chose for Bel was on the top shelf in the back of the store, and more wands from various places in the store quickly joined it in the shopkeep’s arms. The long boxes thumped down on the counter in front of Bel, and Ollivander opened the box on the apex of the rickety pile.“Yew, Thirteen and a half inches, Dragon heartstring.”

     Bel took the offered wand and the plate glass window imploded. She quickly handed the wand back to Ollivander and glanced guiltily at the shards of the window. Ollivander however, had no reaction to the destruction, and reacted as if this sort of occurrence happened on a daily basis. She calmly handed Bel another wand. This time it was the lights that exploded. The cycle of destruction slowly consumed the shop as one after another wand refused to be wielded by Bel. Finally they reached the last box on the counter. “Elder, Twelve and one quarter inches, Phoenix tail feather.”

     This time when Bel’s fingers curled around the shaft of the wand a warm wind carried the notes of a haunting tune. The wand was pleasant and warm to hold, and Bel did not want to ever put it down. Ollivander seemed satisfied, and started to put the leftover wands back in their boxes. The boxes flew back onto the dusty shelves with a twitch of her wand. Another few flourishes and the shop was back to its natural, if somewhat disheveled state. She tied the three boxes that contained the selected wands with twine, and gave them to Aunt Narcissa. She turned to the register and declared, “That will be forty-two Galleons.”

     Uncle Lucius glowered at her, “That’s twice the price that you would charge anyone else, but I’m not in the mood to argue with you. Have your petty revenge.” He slammed a pile of gold on the counter, grabbed Bel’s arm and hustled them out of the shop. Bel opened her mouth to ask what that had been about, but the look on Uncle Lucius’ face changed her mind.

     They crossed the street and bought several sets of robes each at Twilfitt and Tattings.Uncle Lucius snorted when the old witch offered to sew in color-changing panels into the insides of their robes. He started to insist that she just put in emerald ones already but Aunt Narcissa put a hand on his arm, and said quietly “Just let her do it Lucius. It would be frowned on if they arrived on the platform already in green. I didn’t let you get Draco Slytherin robes his first year, and I won’t let you do it now.”

 _It was always surprising to see Aunt Narcissa insist on anything_ , reflected Bel. _Both because it happened so rarely, and because Uncle Lucius always backed down so quickly. He would not even listen to Uncle Draco, his own son, not like that._ They left the shop with normal first year’s robes, although she did see Uncle Lucius buy several Slytherin patches for their robes. Bel was fairly sure Aunt Narcissa had not caught that one.

     Books, quills, and parchment from Flourish and Blotts came next. The cauldron, phials, and scales came from Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. Bel was delighted when their last stop was at the Magical Menagerie. Scorpius was not so happy, as he had not read in the second page of his letter that first years weren’t allowed to have brooms. Uncle Lucius had to promise that if he managed to make the house team, an exception would be made about brooms. _Better say goodbye to that Lightening Eight. It’s more likely to be me on the team this year than you, and even I will only make the team when cauldrons fly,_ thought Bel. She contented herself in choosing a giant black and gold owl. The harried clerk whose name tag read ‘Barb’ took one look at the Owl and grinned with relief, “Ohh…finally someone chose Lucifer! He's a real handful, always trying to eat the rats.” Cat had given in to the temptation to get a kitten, and ran from the back of the store carrying an enormous fluffy white Persian. Scorpius finally picked an eagle owl that dwarfed even Bel’s. As they left the store Cat declared, “Her name is Snowball, and she will sleep on my bed with me every night at Hogwarts.”

     Cat skipped ahead with her cage held tightly, and Scorpius whispered in Bel’s ear, “More like Hairball, and the rug is going to escape the first chance it gets. Cat couldn't even keep that Silver Racer alive last year. Five galleons says it’s gone one way or another by Christmas.”

     Bel thought momentarily about showing faith in her other friend, but remembered the poor little fish and decided against it. “Forget Christmas, it won’t last the first term!”

 


	3. The Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet James Sirius Potter.

The Hidden Girl

 

 

     

     The boy had been waiting for this day to come all his life. From the day he had first wobbled onto a toy broomstick, a gift from his Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron on his first birthday, his whole family had been ecstatically awaiting his debut at Hogwarts. James knew in his gut that today was the day as he saw Eleusis, the family owl, flying a few meters from the window sill, letter clutched in her strong beak. Eleusis landed clumsily on the window, sending her snowy feathers into a flurry all over the kitchen. James chuckled to himself, taking the letter from her beak, giving her a loving pat of thanks, and brushing a few of the feathers off his toast. In that moment, James’s mother made her way down the stairs, eyes widening upon seeing the letter. “By god, James, it seems your letter is finally here.” Ginny ruffled her son’s sloppy black hair, squeezing his shoulder gently. 

     “HARRY, DEAR, WHERE ARE YOU? DID YOU HEAR!” Ginny proceeded to pull her husband down the stairs after her, catching her foot slightly and causing her husband to smile gently.

     “After all these years, still clumsy around me,” Harry whispered to his wife, causing her to blush and slap his arm playfully. Harry looked to his son, seeing the letter in his hands, “Is that your Hogwarts letter? Well, it’s about time. Congratulations, son.” James nodded to his father, smiling with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

     His parents gathered around the table and watched as he broke the purple seal. He felt his heart pound as he took the parchment out of the envelope. He was about to start reading when suddenly, Teddy and Victoire burst into the kitchen. Teddy, being a playful metamorphmagus, had turned his usual reddish-brown hair and light brown eyes to a silvery blonde with blue eyes to mock Victoire who was giggling from her perch on his back. She always pretended to hate it when he did that, and insisted on calling him Victor until he allowed it to return to normal. Victoire was a light hearted witch, always grinning which made her beautiful features from her Veela heritage even more striking. Upon seeing her cousin, she ran and threw her arms around him in a rather stiff hug. She waved to her aunt and uncle, still oblivious to the activities going on across the table.

     Teddy, however, caught on rather quickly, “Ah, seems that someone’s finally gotten his letter.” 

     “Well, it had to happen eventually,” James smirked. Teddy raised an eyebrow, glad that James—who was practically his brother—shared his mischievous attitude.

     Victoire practically bounced, “Oh! I can’t wait for you to be at Hogwarts with us, James! At first, it will be a little odd for you, I mean, being a Potter and all-“

     “No, it won’t, Torie. It is going to be bloody hilarious! I mean, can you imagine his face?” Teddy laughed, morphing into his version of a startled James. However, his laughing ceased abruptly when he saw the daggers Harry and Ginny were glaring at him, and he quickly returned his features to normal. James laughed at Teddy but furrowed his brow in confusion. “Victoire, Teddy, what do you mean, because I’m a Potter?”

     Harry winced, “Oh, I’ll tell you later James, don’t worry about it.” For James, this was not the first time he had found some things about his parents slightly odd. His mother had been a professional Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies, and was now a Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet. His father was the Head of the Auror Office. He had always thought that these were the reasons for people’s stares and whispers. However, at the age of eleven, James was beginning to realize there had to be something more behind it. He was sure that he would be able to get it out of Teddy or Victoire though, who seemed to know much more than he did. Growing up, Teddy, Victoire, and James had been very close. The adults often called them numbers one, two, and three, after the successive years in which they had been born.Teddy had been raised by his grandmother, Andromeda, but more often than not, he was at the Potters’ with his godfather Harry. From the time he was about eight, he had his own room and all his favorite belongings were at the Potters’ home in Godric’s Hollow. Victoire was also constantly around. Her parents Bill and Fleur had moved to Godric’s Hollow, shortly after her birth, and she had quickly gotten in the habit of toddling over to her cousin’s house, just across the street.

     Growing up, James had loved the busy feeling of their house. Despite having two of his own siblings, Albus and Lily, the house always felt empty when it wasn’t filled with extraneous family members. Of course, his younger cousins Rose and Hugo - son and daughter of his Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione - were always around. Victoire’s younger siblings, Dominique and Louis came over as well but they were quite young.

     James had become much closer to his siblings in the last two years since the majority of the time, the two other members of his trio had been away at Hogwarts. James could still remember the day that Teddy had gone off to Hogwarts. The whole clan of Weasleys and Potters had come to the send off. Victoire had even cried. From that day on, and even more so the next year when Victoire left, James had been consumed with the need to be at Hogwarts.

     Now, it was finally his turn to cause trouble at school, just like Teddy had been doing for two years. James followed in the footsteps of his Uncle George and late grandfather. He was always neck-deep in trouble but he always had a plan. His parents were not completely pleased with this, but everyone knew that he couldn’t be stopped. Of course, James made sure no one ever got hurt but he sometimes forgot to properly cover his tracks, leading to disastrous consequences.

     As more of his cousins, aunts and uncles shuffled into the kitchen he escaped upstairs, followed by Teddy and Victoire. In his room, he found his siblings, minus their heads, due to the Headless Hats their Uncle George had brought over earlier that week. Upon seeing him, they promptly showed their smiling faces. James proudly displayed the letter to his younger siblings who ran up to him, seemingly quite impressed.

     “JAMES! YOU GOT YOUR LETTER, ALREADY! It’s going to be forever until I get mine,” Lily whined.

     “It is very fair, Lil. We all have to wait our turn,” James leaned over to tickle his sister gently. Lily giggled in response, the realization that her brother was leaving had not fully sunk into her young mind. Teddy scooped Lily up into his lap and proceeded to change his hair into all the colors in the rainbow, something he did quite often, especially when he was bored.

     Lily laughed and Victoire grimaced at Teddy.

     “So,” James murmured, “what did you guys mean about being a Potter again?” Teddy and Victoire exercised their exceptional silent communication skills, Teddy raising his eyebrow and Victoire sending him a scolding look to which he obligingly looked chastened. James was half-convinced it was a form of telepathy, even though his mother insisted that some things even magic couldn’t do. They eventually reached a tacit understanding.

     “You see, James, we know that Uncle Harry wishes to wait until you reach Hogwarts to find these things out for yourself.” Victoire said nervously.

     Teddy then shifted Lily to his shoulder, “Yeah, but don’t worry, you’ve got some wicked cool advantages coming your way,” he added.

     Just then, James got an idea. “Well, my friends, I already have some advantages right at my fingertips.” He extended his hand to his younger siblings. “Teddy, please remove the young ones, I’d rather not have them grassing on me.” Teddy grinned anxiously, convinced the two Potter children of some excitement in the kitchen and then proceeded to lock the door behind them.

     Victoire furrowed her eyebrows, “What do you mean?” She looked to Teddy who shrugged his shoulders.

     James was grinning madly, the grin that meant that he had a plan prepared. “You both well know that my father spends a vast amount of time in his study. He keeps a lot of rubbish in there, you know. At least, all of it is that isn’t locked up, it’s all Auror business and old articles about who knows what. Most of it isn’t even as good as the confiscated muggle stuff Grandpa keeps in the garage at the burrow.”

     Teddy fidgeted impatiently, “James, what’s your point?” “The point is that not everything in that office is in fact rubbish. You see, let’s say that I know the password to the study and I’ve spent some time in there with my father, well, not with him exactly, but while he was also in there and I found out that he keeps two things in there that are of interest to me. And which I also know how to access. I’d like to think of them as _family heirlooms,_ and family heirlooms are meant to be inherited, are they not?”

     Victoire looked at James with a nervous smile, “Is this really a good idea James? Stealing from the study?”

     Teddy stood looming over her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “C’mon Torie, live a little, whatever he’s going on about is his _right of passage_ , his last chance of rebellion, he’s thought this through and we’re going to be fine.”

     At his touch, Victoire visibly relaxed, “Alright James, get on with it.”

     James over-poured with excitement, “With your help, I am going to take the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak with me to Hogwarts.”

     Teddy squeezed Victoire’s hand, and she squeezed back, pondering the offer. James could tell how nervous this made his cousin, and even his godbrother. He sat waiting for an answer, knowing it would be best for them to decide on their own if he wanted the right result. They whispered back and forth, and James could tell that Teddy was starting to feel more confident about the idea, but Victoire still needed a little convincing. Teddy had a significant influence on her, and James knew she would most likely swing his way in the end. Victoire let out a sigh, “Okay James, we’re in, but you better have one hell of a plan.”

     James clasped his hands together, leaning in to whisper, “Excellent!”

     James, Victoire, and Teddy had huddled in the room for about half an hour, working out the details of their plan. They decided that their best chance would be to wait until the day of departure to Hogwarts. Luckily for them, the materials they needed could all be purchased next week at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley, while getting their supplies for that school year. Unluckily for them, it was run by James’s uncles, Ron and George, so they would have to make sure the uncles would not tell James’s parents of their elicit purchases. Luckily, Uncle George was at the counter and promised to keep it a secret, the art of mischief having always run through his veins.

     The trio was able to sneak out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with a bag full of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-bangs, Exploding Whizz Poppers, and Miraculous Mystic Mayhem Makers. George had even given it to them for free. After this quick stop, the trio found their parents and siblings. James drank in the atmosphere of the alley, he’d been there a few times before, but today it was quite different. It had a new sense of purpose and excitement, with all the dark robed students bustling in and out of the shops.

     It was going to be James’s first time inside many of the specialized shops. These shops had been unnecessary just a few weeks before. They stopped at Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions, where he was fitted by a hovering tape measure and pins that didn’t seem to take an liking to him. They made sure to poke him extra hard every time he dared move. He had to bite his cheeks in order not to wince. Finally, several painful minutes later, James left the shop with three plain robes, one winter cloak, a hat, and protective gloves.

     Their next stop was Flourish and Blotts', where James hastily collected all the books he was required to purchase for that year and dumped them into his cauldron unceremoniously. James was not an avid reader, and the bookcases spiraling up the walls failed to excite him. James looked to Teddy and rolled his eyes as they watched Victoire become mesmerized by the books whizzing across the shop. He figured that he, too, would be fascinated, if only he were a muggle and flying books were a novelty. Victoire tore her eyes away from the display as she and Teddy looked for their own required volumes. Once they were done, they reached the counter and paid for their books.

     As they were turning to leave, James saw a rather peculiar woman adorned completely in alligator green, from her bejeweled spectacles to her freshly-manicured alligator green nails. James swore they were as sharp as teeth. From her handbag, an acid green Quick-Quotes Quill appeared and she began to screech loudly for everyone to hear, “DID I HEAR CORRECTLY? ARE THERE POTTERS HERE? HARRY POTTER, YOU CAN STOP HIDING FROM LITTLE RITA NOW, DEAR. WHERE ARE YOU?”

     James looked to his father and watched him turn pale, quickly grabbing his mother’s hand. James then realized how many eyes were on him and his family, making him extremely uncomfortable. Harry motioned to the children, mouthing ‘run!’before rushing out the door. The children followed suit, as the blonde woman continued her ranting. “MY DEAREST HARRY, GINNY TOO, WHERE ARE YOU? I KNOW YOU CAN’T WAIT TO BE INTERVIEWED! BRING THE CHILDREN, THEY’LL BE POSITIVELY SCRUMPTIOUS IN THE TABLOIDS!”

     James could swear the woman’s high-pitched shrill was shattering his eardrums as they shuffled out of the store.

     When they were finally out of earshot, James whispered to his father, “Who was that woman?”

     His parents eyes’ met in horror, “Rita Skeeter,” they responded.

     “She’s a nasty reporter, that woman. Wrote dozens of false articles in her day, especially about Quidditch,” Ginny murmured, looking rather annoyed. “Stay away from that witch. In fact, staying away from all beetles might do you good.”

     James didn’t fully understand what his mother meant but his encounter with the woman was disheartening enough.

     As they walked the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, Teddy decided to turn himself into each passing stranger, which caused eruptions of laughter from Albus and Lily. Their mother wasn’t amused, and proceeded to scold her godson. “We can’t take you anywhere, can we?”

     Teddy just smiled and shook his head. “You really can’t but I guess I’m just so charming that you can’t stand to be without me.” Teddy continued to joke about his impressiveness all the way to Ollivander’s. James was incredibly excited about this stop, where he would acquire his first wand. Once he reached the door, he looked back to his parents who seemed nearly as excited as he was. His mother nudged him through the doors.

     Once inside, they were greeted by a witch with short brown hair, blue robes, and silver-rimmed spectacles. She gave them a wide smile, “Welcome to Ollivander’s, Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. You need a wand… James is it?”

     James nodded and Ollivander got out a measuring tape. It smacked his wrist as it aligned itself, dangerously close to one of the places he had been stabbed earlier by the pins. “Oh, stop it,” Ollivander barked at the tape. It shriveled back in protest as Ollivander bustled to the back of the shop.

     James finally allowed himself to look around and he noticed the walls were covered from ceiling to floor with wands. They seemed to be jammed into the shelf haphazardly, with no sense of order or organization. She came back, and placed five different wands down on the counter. She pulled out the first and James grew eager as he saw the gleaming dark wood. “Ebony, Twelve and one quarter inches, Dragon heartstring.”

     Teddy examined it, “Mine’s an ebony wand. It’s a good one.” James proceeded to wield the wand, sending a stream of water directly into Teddy’s face. James handed the wand back hastily, and Ollivander put it back and pulled out the next wand. “Aspen, Eleven and a half inches, Unicorn.”

     James tried to grasp it, but as soon as he did, it flew from his hand into the air and refused to come down until Victoire snatched it. James stood astounded and Victoire shrugged, “Aspen wands have always liked me,” she informed as she motioned to her own, petite Aspen wand.

     James tried about fifteen more wands and was starting to get used to the results. Sometimes fires would start, other wands caused him to be knocked to the ground, one even thumped him on the head vigorously.

     The next wand Ollivander put out was one that had been previously knocked from the shelf. As she placed it onto the counter, she blew off a thick layer of dust, causing Lily and Ginny to have small sneezing fits. “Rowan, Twelve and three quarter inches, Phoenix tail feather.”

     Once in his hand, James examined it carefully. The wand was light and had an intricate handle, the wood swirled golden and dark brown, resembling a marble cake. He gripped it and shut his eyes, expecting the whole room to fall into discord. When he opened his eyes, a bright glow was being cast from the wand, sending out a blazing heat that illuminated the room.

     Once the light dimmed, Ollivander sent him a satisfied look. “Rowan’s a nice, protective wand. Good for a wizard’s protection, great in duels. That’ll be seven Galleons.” James placed the money on the counter and Ollivander chirped to herself, “Hmm, how peculiar. I just sold a wand with a twin core to some girl earlier today, rarely ever happens.”

     The group exited the shop, led by James who was admiring his new wand. A quarter down the block, he felt his wand tug. _Probably my imagination,_ he mused, but he stopped and looked up. In turn, this caused a chain reaction as his family proceededto bump into each other and look, following his gaze. James saw a familiar looking boy, about his age, with white-blonde hair slicked back. He was with an older couple. The man looked much like the boy except that his hair was starting to silver and it fell below his shoulders. James saw two younger girls with them, one slightly familiar as well—a plain girl with brown eyes and hair. The third, however, was someone he’d never seen before. Her hair was a massive accumulation of black, curling tendrils and her eyes were a surprising green. James looked to his father, who seemed suddenly aware of them, “Have I seen them before?”

     Harry nodded to his son, “Probably. That man is Lucius Malfoy and his wife is Narcissa.” James nodded, remembering hearing much about them. Harry continued, “ I’ve talked about them before, I’m sure. I believe that’s their grandson, Scorpius, son of Draco Malfoy. The brown haired girl is, um…”

     Ginny piped in, “That’s Catherine Goyle, daughter of Gregory. The other girl with them, I’ve never seen. What about you, Harry?”

     Harry shook his head, “I’ve never seen her before either.”

     With that, they dropped the subject and headed towards their final stop, the Magical Menagerie, where James was allowed to pick out a pet. James thought that he wanted an owl but he wasn’t sure—a toad might also be amusing. As he entered the shop, at least half a dozen cats hissed at him. He made a mental note to stay away from most cats, except for Althea,Aunt Fleur’s cat who seemed to tolerate him more than most.

     James passed a wall of pygmy puffs before crossing over to the toads. He tried to pick one out, but failed miserably—none of them seemed to acknowledge his presence. James next tried the owl cages, where he really hoped to find something that actually liked him. He went over to a beautiful snowy owl when the shopkeeper noticed him. “That’s Heather, she’s quite friendly.”

     James stuck out his hand and Heather sized him up, stared right into his eyes and bit him. James stumbled back, cursing, and the shopkeeper, a small balding man, sighed. “Well, I guess not anymore.” As James examined his small wound, he heard another owl let out a soft hoot. He looked up and was caught in the gaze of a tawny owl, very small with bright yellow eyes. He went to the owl, cautious because of his previous encounter. The tawny owl warmed up to him immediately, nuzzling its head against the cage.

     The shopkeeper came back, “Ah, Millicent. She’s usually quite the grumpy broad, but she seems to fancy you.” Harry went over to the man and paid for the owl while James continued to pet the bird.

     “Hello, Millie,” he whispered.

 

✶ ✶ ✶

 

     It was the last day of summer when James, Victoire, and Teddy finally executed their plan. They now had all the supplies, had surveyed the entryways, concocted the distraction, and scheduled the perfect timing. The children were counting on being behind schedule to leave for King’s Cross, due to their ever-growing family, which always made their departure frantic and hurried. This would be the foolproof way to avoid suspicion, or at least make their parents forget about watching them.

     As trunks were packed into the back of a giant Volkswagen, jostling about and making a ruckus, another ruckus was being made inside the house. Poor Albus had been bribed by Teddy into their little plan, a heap of sweets from Diagon Alley had been promised. So the innocent child had been sworn to secrecy, and was now going to unleash an exorbitant amount of magical fireworks into the house. From upstairs, James sent his little brother the sign, and then made his way up to his father’s office. Teddy and Victory guarded the hall as he faced entrance to the office. It was a grand arch-shaped door but had no handle. His veins pumped with adrenaline as he whispered to the charmed entryway. He raked his brain for the right phrase —the password was changed every few months—until he remembered the most current one.

     “Wighed Twenty-Seven,” James murmured. To his relief, the doorway seemed to shimmer, becoming slightly translucent, and he knew that was his cue to enter. Once through, the doorway solidified behind him. His eyes roamed the study—a dimly lit room littered with papers strewn across the desk, locked trunks whose innards were a conundrum, and the golden cabinetry filled with his father’s prized possessions. The study had been a wonderland to a younger James, who had often snuck in after his father. On occasion, he still did—toying with the knickknacks on the desk and staring at his father’s mysterious trinkets. The study was his very own paternal puzzle. Some things made perfect sense but others were a complete mystery to him. For example, he saw old broomsticks here and there but there were other things he didn’t recognize, and things James didn’t understand the importance of.

     There was a bowl of swirling silver liquid, a handle of what seemed to have been a knife, and a shard of glass. He could ponder the objects forever, but he knew that this was not the time. James scurried behind the stained mahogany desk and moved the matching chair aside. He rolled under the desk and looked up at his dad’s charmed muggle keypad. He knew that the cloak and map were hidden here, a compartment James had found while in need of a hiding space from approaching adults. James had once snuck into the office after his father had left but Harry had reentered shortly thereafter, searching for something he had forgotten. James had hidden inside a partially empty trunk behind the desk, praying he wouldn’t be found. He had watched Harry look around the room cautiously, seeming to sense that someone was there. When Harry had decided that he was, in fact, alone, he almost disappeared from James’ view, rolling under the desk and onto his back. He had seen his father punch numbers into the muggle keypad, which glowed upon his touch.

     His father came out holding a shimmering cloak and a seemingly blank piece of parchment. However, when his father had whispered an incoherent phrase the parchment began to fill with ink, The Maurauder’s Map forming on the front. He had then slipped the cloak over his head and simply vanished. James had heard of this very map and cloak in his father’s stories, but he had never seen either before. Then James had panicked, not knowing if it was safe to leave or not. Eventually, after a few minutes of not hearing any movement, he decided it was safe to depart.

     Unfortunately for James, his father changed the password so frequently that for the past two weeks, he had to relive the trunk experience for hours at a time until he finally caught his father and the new password. James’ fingers shook as he typed the new password into the keypad. _0-7-9-7._ When he finished typing, the pad swung outward, revealing a small hidden section of the desk. James reached in and felt around the covert chamber. After vigorous seconds of search, James reached the conclusion that the drawer was empty. _Where are they?_ James wondered to himself. _The cloak, the map, they must be here! Cloak, CLOAK!_ When James thought this, he felt the soft, silky material appear in his hands. He pulled it out and admired it for a minute before quickly tucking it into his jacket. He reached his hand back in, _Is the map here?_ He waited, asking again, but nothing appeared. He became quite frustrated, and after what seemed like an eternity, he came to the conclusion that the map must have been moved. So, he quietly closed the compartment, got up quickly, and exited the study.

     Once outside, Teddy and Victoire looked to him expectantly. James grinned to celebrate his small feat. “The map must have been moved—it wasn’t in the compartment. However, I did manage to snag the cloak,” James smug grin grew even wider. He pulled a corner of the cloak out of his pocket and watched as Victoire and Teddy’s eyes widened. The three bounced downstairs in excitement.

     As the trio made their way downstairs, they saw the mess their plan had left in its wake. Two dragons made of fire were currently demolishing the living room, and firecrackers exploded repeatedly in the kitchen. James saw a cat made of fire chasing a screaming Lily in circles around Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill. Fleur, Bill, Harry, Ginny and Andromeda ran—or hobbled in Andromeda’s case—around feverishly attempting to charm the incendiary tricks into submission. After about ten minutes, the last Exploding Whizz Popper had been diminished. Everything was fairly intact, other than some slightly scorched clothing and a small flame coming from Andromeda’s hat.“ _Aguamenti!”_ she hissed, scowling as a stream of water put out the smoking hat.

     While the Potter children laughed, their mother did not think this was funny at all. Ginny’s face turned as red as her hair. She sent out a look that translated roughly into “ _All of you tell me who’s responsible this instant!”_ Begrudgingly, Albus stepped forward, looking quite dejected as the older children pointed him out as well. Before he could receive a punishment, Teddy whispered in his ear, making him nod and smile briefly before being shoved into the unforgiving custody of his angry mother.


	4. The Two Trios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trains, Hogwarts, and Hats.

The Two Trios

 

 

 

     Bel glanced around her room in the Manor one last time. Her trunk was packed and on her bed, and the newly rechristened Nightlock was safely in his new cage on her dresser. Without her things strewn everywhere, the room looked a little sad and extremely empty. The clock read only seven thirty, but Bel had already eaten breakfast. _I have never been up this early in my entire life,_ Bel thought distantly. She dragged her trunk out through the door, snagging the dark owl’s cage with her other hand as she passed him. The trunk made a third set of tracks in the carpet in the hall and on the stairs down to the foyer. The two other sets of trunks and cages were against the wall next to the great oak door, and Bel’s belongings soon joined them.

     As Bel crept through the sleepy house, she saw all the dozing portraits and exotic knicknacks that had defined her life. So far. She found Scorpius and Cat sitting in the roots of their ashtree, and Bel hopped up onto the low fork that was her accustomed perch. Cat was tossing dried corn to one of the peacocks, and Scorpius was staring at the low grey clouds, twirling his new wand absently. “When are we leaving?” asked Bel, suddenly feeling excitement crash over her.

     “Any minute now,” Cat replied, not nearly as excitedly as Bel. She threw the last of the corn at the iridescent bird and stood up. Uncle Draco and Aunt Astoria appeared at the door by the veranda. She motioned to the children and Scorpius jumped up and ran towards his mother, followed closely by Bel and then Cat. Aunt Astroia smiled at Scorpius and said, “Your Grandma Greengrass wishes you luck, Scorpius.” Turning to Cat, Aunt Astoria continued, “She also said to tell Catherine to stop worrying. So stop worrying.”

     Aunt Astoria was extremely nice, but sometimes seemed to set Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa a bit on edge. She knew that something was a little odd about Bel, but she was certainly not privileged as to what it could be. The elder Greengrasses did not know that Bel existed at all, and Bel always had to stay upstairs on the infrequent occasions when they visited the Manor. Scorpius always got what they called “The Bel Lecture” before he went to visit his other grandparents.

     Taking Scorpius’ hand Aunt Astoria followed Uncle Draco back into the Manor with Cat and Bel trailing after her. “There has been a change of plans. Your parents will meet us at King’s Cross,” Aunt Astoria called back to Cat as she walked hurriedly along. She marched them through the hallways right to the open front door where Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa were waiting. Bel could see Snowball’s cage disappearing into the magically enlarged trunk of the Mercedes. The chauffeur shut the boot and climbed into the front seat of the car. Aunt Astoria and Uncle Draco continued out to the waiting car, but Uncle Lucius opened his mouth, presumably to warn them to stick to the story one last time.

     “We know. Don’t draw attention to ourselves,” cut in Bel before he could begin.

     “We all know the story by heart. We couldn’t mess it up even if we wanted to,” added Scorpius.

     “You made us rehearse it over a hundred times. Since yesterday!” exclaimed Cat. And with that she followed Scorpius’ parents and climbed into the waiting backseat.

     Scorpius and Bel waited a moment longer, and Uncle Lucius looked into Bel’s eyes with concern. “I know this must all seem like an exciting game to you three, but it is not. The consequences of not following my instructions do not bear thinking of.” Perhaps his words finally hit home to Bel and her friends, because the ride to King’s Cross was a subdued one.

     Cat’s parents, Gregory and Melissa Goyle, were waiting by the entrance, and joined the party. Cat, who could barely remember living with her parents, was only distantly glad to see them. She was slightly surprised they had even bothered to come. So was everyone else, except Aunt Astoria who always had faith in everybody. None of the children had ever been to a muggle train station, or even seen a muggle up close, so the bustle of the station was bewildering to them. Seeing all of the people bustling around them—throwing only the occasional puzzled glances at Nightlock and Melik, the owls, never imagining that over a thousand witches and wizards were passing through their midst—struck Bel and her friends as amusing. They could barely control their giggles as they moved through the terminals. The adults did not find it nearly as entertaining. They all wore expressions of veiled distaste, only thinly veiled on Uncle Lucius’ and Aunt Narcissa’s faces. Bel and Scorpius pushed their trolleys slightly ahead of the adults—Cat was stuck talking to her parents—so they could both watch the muggles and listen surreptitiously to the adults.

     “I wish the Ministry had paid more attention to our petition to build our own station. This would be a much more pleasant experience if we did not have to wade through all of these muggles to get through to the Express. Diagon Alley would be a perfectly nice location…and we wouldn’t have to wear these infernal clothes!” muttered Uncle Lucius. Aunt Narcissa made a noncommittal noise, and Bel stopped short a few meters away from a brick wall. She had just seen someone about her age disappear through a solid brick wall! Scorpius was blinking very hard—he obviously had seen the phenomenon and could not quite believe it either. It was a very odd thing to see magic in the middle of a muggle train station. The adults continued to talk amongst themselves and did not notice the shock on the children’s faces. They only motioned them to follow as they too disappeared through the bricks. Cat was swept through along with them, and Bel caught a glimpse of her firmly closed eyes as she stepped through the wall. Only Aunt Astoria stayed behind.

     “All you have to do is walk at the center of the wall. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is on the other side. Don’t worry, it’s impossible for a witch or wizard to be stopped by the bricks,” said Aunt Astoria as she smiled reassuringly at her son and his friend.

     Scorpius looked at Bel. A silent argument occurred between the friends through their locked eyes. Scorpius lost. “Fine, I’ll go first, but if I get squashed like a pixie, I’m blaming you!” He considered the wall, and took a leaf out of Cat’s book. Scorpius closed his eyes before sprinting at the wall, his trolley let out a squeak of protest at the extreme velocity. Bel was absolutely certain that he was going to be crushed, but sure enough he disappeared just like the others. Aunt Astoria was still standing beside the brick column, and Bel had no choice.

     If the bricks had accepted Scorpius and Cat they would let her pass. Probably. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fingers around the handle of her trolley, and tilted at the bricks. As she feared, there was an awful clang of metal and she sprawled on the ground. But when she opened her eyes, it was not bricks that she saw. Scorpius had apparently stopped just on the other side of the wall, and their trolleys had collided. Nightlock and Melik’s cages had been thrown from the trolleys and they were making loud screeches of displeasure. But when Bel looked up from the trolleys, she saw a scarlet steam engine with golden lettering on the front, _Hogwarts Express,_ and white steam billowing from the engine. The ceiling of the platform was higher than in muggle King’s Cross, and sunlight streamed through the glass panels. When seen as a group, the occupants of the platform could not be mistaken for ordinary by even the most closed-minded muggle. Magic seemed to be blossoming everywhere Bel looked. An enormous grin burst across Bel’s face, and her fear of the wall evaporated.

     It took her twice as long as it should have to restack her trunk and Nightlock back on her trolley, as there was a new distraction everywhere she looked. In a daze, she pushed her trolley to the luggage rack and a porter swung her trunk onto a vast pile of other belongings. She held on to Nightlock’s cage and scanned the crowd until she found the adults at the back of the platform leaning against a wall. She pointed out their party to Cat and Scorpius, and they set off through the crowd.

     When they finally reached the back wall the whistle sounded to signal five minutes before departure. As they said their hasty goodbyes, Bel noticed several hostile looks being directed their way, but the adults did not seem to notice—or perhaps they did not care. The platform was quickly emptying of students and the trio ran for the second car of the train. Only a few seconds after they scrambled aboard, a lurch ran through the train, and the scarlet train quickly picked up speed, leaving the waving adults on the platform far behind. The train seemed incredibly crowded to the first years, and as they wandered down the corridor, even a few older students could be heard complaining about the conditions. Apparently enrollment was almost back to the levels it had been before the First Wizarding War. The train had been smaller for decades, and no one had considered the overcrowding and remembered to add more cars.

     The three friends walked down the length of the train, but any empty seats were quickly claimed by the older students walking with them. They reached the last car, and were beginning to lose hope, when they found one of the last compartments was only half full, and appeared to contain only younger students. Bel heaved open the sliding door, and Scorpius and Cat piled into the compartment after her. The three students already occupying the compartment made room with only token grumbling. One of the boys was obviously a first year with his all black robes, and had messy black hair and blue eyes. He smiled tentatively at Bel, but his companions were not quite as pleased to see them. The other girl and boy looked only slightly older, and were both in Gryffindor scarlet. The girl had long blonde hair, almost as light as Scorpius’s, and an etherial face. The boy currently had purple hair and brown eyes, but Bel would have sworn that it had been blue before she had opened the door.

     The boy with the technicolor hair was eyeing Scorpius, and he did not seem overly pleased. “My name is Teddy Lupin. Who are you?”

     His stare did not intimidate Scorpius in the least, and he plopped down beside Bel opposite the Gryffindors and the first-year. Cat finally sat nearest the door across from the blonde girl. “I am Scorpius Malfoy, these are my friends Bel Black and Cat Goyle. Everywhere else is full.” The last was said as both a statement of fact and a justification for their presence that had so obviously offended Teddy. It was obvious to everyone in the compartment that neither trio was going anywhere.

     At the mention of her name, the black-haired first year across from Bel leaned forward eagerly. “Are you related to Sirius Black? My father talks about him all the time. I’m James Potter, by the way.” James had not been paying much attention to the new arrivals before he heard the smaller girl’s name. He hadn’t registered the appearance or name of the boy that had introduced them or his other friend.

     Bel had never heard of anyone named Sirius Black, but James’ last name was certainly familiar to her. Harry Potter was one of the names heard at the Manor often enough, but only from behind closed doors that she wasn’t supposed to be listening at. They had never managed to find out exactly who he was, but on one of his excursions to his grandparents' house Scorpius had heard from his cousins that Harry Potter had been somehow involved in the fall of the Death Eaters. Whoever he was, Bel was fairly sure that Uncle Lucius would _not_ approve of her being anywhere near his son. It might even count as drawing attention to themselves. But all she said was, “No, I don’t think so. Never heard of him.”

     This disappointed James. If Bel was not related to Sirius—if she had never even heard of him—then she must be one of the _other_ Blacks. His father had told him all about them, too. Turning his attention away from Bel, James finally took the time to notice her companions. When his eyes fell on the boy with the white-blond hair his eyes narrowed, “Hey—what did you say your name was again?” Now that he was looking at the boy, his appearance rang a few bells somewhere in the back of his mind. His father had always been very stingy with stories from when he was young, usually focusing on his current work as one of the Ministry’s Aurors. One of the few stories he did tell centered upon a Slytherin he used to know at school. A white-blonde boy, a boy named Draco Malfoy.

     Scorpius had finished taking in his fellow travelers, and had been watching the countryside roll past outside the train windows. He had not caught the black-haired boy’s name, or heard his conversation with Bel. He also failed to catch Bel’s wide-eyed look of warning that she was currently sending his way. “I’m Scorpius Malfoy, not that it’s any business of yours. I didn’t catch your name either,” he shot back, annoyed by the other boy’s tone.

     James felt an almost instinctive dislike for Scorpius, his imperious attitude, and the way he had commandeered their compartment. “I am James Potter, and I suppose you’re hoping for Slytherin,” hissed James.

     Scorpius recognized the name just as Bel had, but by this time he was so incensed that he did not care what his grandfather would say. “Of course I’m going into Slytherin, it’s the best house. What are you hoping for, Hufflepuff? No, wait, don’t tell me, you want to be a Gryffindor?” James’s glare was all the answer he needed. The compartment descended into stony silence for the next three hours.

 

✶ ✶ ✶

 

     At last the scarlet train ground to a halt at Hogsmeade’s station. The weather had turned sour as they had ridden across the countryside, and sheets of rain were pelting down on the cobbles of the station outside the window. The six unwilling traveling companions gratefully split back into two trios as they joined the swirling crowd of students making their way back to Hogwarts for the start of term. James followed closely behind Victoire and Teddy. He knew perfectly well that first years were supposed to ride in the boats, but he also knew that every year a few of them managed to get lost and followed the older students to the castle in the carriages. In this weather, James was determined to be one of them, until he heard a voice booming out over the station, “Firs’ years over here, all firs’ years line up here for the boats! Oy James, that means you too. Firs’ years gather roun’.” Hagrid had seen him attempting to ride the carriages with his best friends. After a slightly dejected goodbye, James fought through the crowd of students back to where Hagrid was standing like a mountain surrounded by a few hundred shivering students.

     Bel, Scorpius, and Cat had followed a slightly less circuitous route into the mass of shivering first years. After exiting the train and hearing the enormous man’s call, they had sought shelter under the overhang of the station. The giant of a man did not seem to mind the downpour, and was standing just on the other side of a curtain of rain falling from the roof. He was already soaking wet, and his bushy black beard streaked with grey appeared to have soaked up several gallons of water all on its own. It took nearly a half an hour to gather all of the confused first years, and after the final few stragglers joined the cluster the man began booming out over the crowd, “I am Hagrid, an’ I teach Care o’ Magical Creatures up at th’ castle. All of yeh follow close in this weather, and mind none o’ yeh fall out this year!”

     With that, the man—Hagrid—started walking along a narrow forested path at a pace that had most of them half-running along behind him. Bel hurried along behind Hagrid, as he left a hole in the rain in his wake, and she started as she felt a hand grab onto the back of her cloak. With a start, she glanced behind her and saw Scorpius and then Cat strung out behind her, trying to keep together in the rush to get out of the rain. Turning back to face the front of the line, Bel saw to her astonishment that the professor was actually talking to a student. Upon closer inspection, she saw with a sinking sensation, the student was none other than James Potter.

     James had by this time forgotten his plan to hitch a ride with his friends to school. _There are worst places to be in the world,_ he reflected, _than with Hagrid._ His parents’ friend was, as usual, keeping up a running commentary on the new mad beasts he had caught since Christmas.

     “Foun’ a new unicorn in the forest las’ week. He was hurt, an’ I brought ‘im up to th’ cabin. Yeh, can see ‘im soon James, I ‘ave ‘im in a paddock.” Hagrid had kept this up for almost ten minutes already, when James glanced behind him in line and saw the three from the train. Hagrid followed his eyes, and didn’t look too happy to see them either.

     “I ‘eard tha’ we were gettin a new Malfoy this year. But…” Hagrid stopped short when his eyes lit on Bel, and he looked slightly puzzled. “Do I know yeh from somewhere? Who are yeh parents?”

     James saw a flicker of fear quickly replaced by defiance on her face, and realized that he would like to know the answer to that as well. She had not answered that question on the train. In fact, she had avoided telling him anything about herself.

     Bel had an answer ready for this, of course, but she had not expected to be interrogated by a mountain. Perhaps all that memorization had been useful after all, “I’m Bel Black, and I don’t think you know my parents. My guardian is my uncle Argyre.”

     Hagrid seemed to be satisfied with this response, as he turned back to the lake just becoming visible through the trees, but James certainly wasn’t. First she showed up with a Malfoy, and then she dodged a simple question. Twice! “Just who are your parents then,” queried James. Something was just too odd about the whole thing.

     Despite James’ directness, his questions did not faze Bel in the least. She might not have been prepared for living mountains, but she had certainly expected pushy students. “My parents died just after I was born, and I don’t remember them. They were Abraxos and Miranda Black. They died in the war.” Bel felt proud of herself. She had survived the first round of questions with a minimum amount of details.

     James was not sure what war she meant, but he was going to find out. _Abraxos and Miranda Black, that was an answer, but it still seemed a little odd. And Hagrid was not the first adult he had seen look at Bel strangely._ James racked his memory for the other odd look. _Mother—that was it—she had spotted Bel and her friend’s crash on the platform, and spent too long looking at her. Especially as it was obvious who Scorpius was._ His first year at Hogwarts seemed to be getting more interesting by the second.

     The black lake finally broke through the edge of the forest, and they found themselves on a gravel shore, with perhaps a hundred boats tied up to pilings anchored in the ground. In the prow of each boat a lantern was hung on poles that rose a few feet above the sides of the craft. The lanterns were flickering weakly in the downpour. They did not help to illuminate much more than a few feet into the gloom. In fact the only thing truly visible was a huge castle that twinkled with lights from a thousand windows. It rose high above the lake on a cliff that jutted out over the waves crashing at its base hundreds of feet below. Hagrid busied himself preparing to launch the boats, but all of the first years were stuck dumb. Most had never seen such a sight before, and it was more than enough to take anyone’s breath away if they were not used to it. Even in the rain, the sight was so compelling that Hagrid had to remind them of the feast waiting in the Great Hall. This set off a mad scramble to get into the boats. “No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called over the ensuing rush.

     The crowd behind him pushed James into the first boat on the shore, and to his dismay Bel, Cat and Scorpius were forced to pile in after him. The boats were not very pleasant, as they had accumulated a few inches of water in the bottoms—despite the best efforts of a water-repelling charm. It took only a minute or two for hungry students to shove their way into the line of boats, and soon the first few untied themselves and began streaming across the lake, with James’ in the lead.

     At this point, Bel would not have cared if she was sharing the boat with a Troll—she only had eyes for the castle. She had never quite imagined a building larger than Malfoy Manor, and the castle could have eaten her home for breakfast. In fact, it looked as if it could fit inside the room behind the great stained glass windows, probably the Great Hall the giant mentioned. Cat shared her fascination, and was attempting to count the windows, she kept getting to about one hundred before they seemed to magically shift before her eyes. Even Scorpius only spared one glare for the other boy before returning to ogling Hogwarts. James was trying to decide which of the spiraling turrets was Gryffindor tower, and was stymied by the fact that he had eight to choose from. Hogwarts was so much bigger than even his wildest daydreams.

     They entered a tunnel whose entrance was disguised behind hanging tendrils of ivy. Too soon the bottom of their boat was scraping onto a pebbly beach. They piled out of the boats, more students coming behind them all the time, and climbed up a long set of stairs that eventually disgorged them on a swath of soft grass that led up to a set of enormous oak doors that led into the castle. Hagrid appeared from the back of the crowd of students, and made his way through to the great doors. He knocked three times and they swung open to reveal a man dwarfed by Hagrid and the doors. It was not clear until they drew closer that the silver-haired man was actually quite small, some of the first years overshadowed him. Hagrid left them outside the doors with the little man and quickly disappeared into the entrance hall.

     “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Flitwick, deputy Headmaster and head of Ravenclaw House. Before the Welcome Feast, you will be sorted into one of four houses; Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. You will remain in your house all seven years, and it will be your family here at Hogwarts. You will eat with your house, sleep with your house, and compete for the Quiddich and House Cups with your house. Breaking the rules will effect not only you, but your entire house, so think carefully before you do so. Come along.” With that Professor Flitwick led them through the entrance hall, which was decorated with suits of armor in hundreds of niches in the walls, and to a set of intricately carved doors. He disappeared through the door on the right, and it closed behind him before any of the students could even get a glimpse of the other side.

     A murmur of conversation started up in a few seconds, but it was soon punctuated by screams echoing from the back of the hall. Everyone turned to look, and soon laughter could be heard among the screams. A troupe of ghosts had passed through a wall and were drifting along towards the students.  _Someone at the back must be muggle-born,_ thought James, _they saw the ghosts and panicked. Wonder who it was._ He turned back towards the carved oak doors, and began studying a lion carved just at eye level.

     The talking soon resumed, the screaming boy having been molified by a half-blood friend. Bel and her companions had migrated towards the back of the crowd in the rush from the boats to the hall, and unlike James, had a decent view of the screamer. Scorpius stood on his tiptoes attempting to see the boy more clearly. He suddenly grinned, dropped back to his feet, and turned to Cat and Bel. “The kid who screamed—the one with the messy brown hair—I think he’s the one who posted the magic videos on YouTube last year,” Scorpius whispered under his breath.

     Cat whipped excitedly around to try to get a better glimpse of the screamer. “I think you're right,” she said excitedly, not bothering to keep her voice down, “He levitated his cat, and the video got almost a million hits before the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office took it down. Even the Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee got involved. He caused the biggest leak this decade, before he even started Hogwarts!”

     Bel thought that Cat was entirely too excited about the whole thing, and her only comment was “I bet he ends up in Hufflepuff,” even though five of the million views had been hers. Bel strongly suspected that the leak was not nearly as big as the Ministry thought it was, judging by the usernames attached to the comments (Gryffindor7 and Slytherin4theCup.)

     The doors of the Entrance Hall burst open to reveal Professor Flitwick, narrowly missing James’ nose. His only words were, “First Years follow me!” before Flitwick disappeared into the Great Hall. The Great Hall had nine tables, one for the staff at the very end, and two for each house running along its length. _The Hall must have been magically enlarged since Mum and Dad were here,_ James thought, _they only ever mentioned four tables._ The hall was filled with warmth and noise, as hundreds of older students discussed the new crop of first years. Banners emblazoned with the crests and colors of the houses fluttered from the ceiling, suspended beneath the grey storm clouds mirrored there. The first years filled the center isle between one of the Ravenclaw tables on their left, and a Hufflepuff table. One set of eyes travelled the length of the Gryffindor table against the wall, searching for two people in the mass, and three sets of eyes swept the two tables beneath the emerald banners.

     When James finally reached the front hall, he stopped in the front row of waiting students just before the first step. Professor Flitwick continued to climb onto the raised dais where, before the head table, two stools had been set up. Flitwick climbed onto the empty stool, but the other was already occupied. A battered brown pointed hat was perched on the lower stool. As the Great Hall fell silent, a rip opened near the brim, and it began to sing:

 

_The discord amongst the houses,_

_Has never ceased; but shifts,_

_Ever waxes and ever wanes._

_I thought not to see a rift,_

_Such as the great schism when four,_

_Was first made into three._

_When once we had all our founders,_

_We lived in harmony,_

_But clever Slytherin the sly,_

_Was driven from this school,_

_Destroying all we’d built,_

_Leaving only three to rule_

_A school built for four._

_Once the wounds they rent had mended,_

_We looked ‘cross the chasm,_

_Houses forever divided._

_Until once more friend turned,_

_Again to fight and conquer friend._

_One house at war with others,_

_And fight to the end._

_Still I am forced to sort,_

_Into Gryffindor the valiant,_

_Of honor and chivalry._

_Ravenclaw with depth of talent,_

_Of knowledge and of wit.Slytherin the resourceful,_

_Of cunning and resolve._

_Into Hufflepuff the cordial,_

_Of the loyal and staunch._

 

     As the hat had been singing, Professor Flitwick had unrolled a long scroll that fell past his feet, onto the dais, and half way down the steps. “When I call your name, sit on the stool, and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. ABERCROMBIE, ALUDRA!” Flitwick called.

     A dark-haired girl with glasses sat on the stool and was sorted into “HUFFLEPUFF!” by the hat. The sorting moved quickly for the first dozen or so names, with the longest taking perhaps twenty-seconds.

     Then Professor Flitwick called “BLACK, BELLADONNA!” Bel gulped and skipped up the steps to the little three-legged stool. _I just hope it’s over quickly,_ was Bel’s last thought before the hat covered her eyes and muffled her ears. _Hmmm, an interesting one,_ said a voice that suddenly invaded her head. The voice went on, _Intelligent, but with a streak of defiance a mile wide._ Bel realized that the voice was coming from the hat, and thought back, _Slytherin, just put me in Slytherin._ The feeling from that hat was slightly startled, _Well, well, well another mark in the bravery column. Slytherin…cunning and ambition…they are here, but you would like Gryffindor, such a strong urge to protect your friends…_ Bel did not like where this was going, _Please not Gryffindor, my Aunt and Uncle would kill me!_ The hat was silent for a few moments before replying, _Are you sure? You strive to please your guardians true, but you also aspire to set yourself apart —it’s all here in your head…hmm, ambition, perhaps you’re right. If you’re sure…_ “SLYTHERIN!”

     Bel finally relaxed, and as the hat was lifted from her head she ran to her house tables on the far wall. As the cheering crowd enveloped her, she relaxed for the first time that day. This was home.

     The sorting continued briskly, first Cat and then Scorpius joining Bel at the far table, and as the sorting continued, conversation began to fill the silence between the periodic cheers from one house or another. It grew louder and louder until it suddenly stopped. Bel had not been paying attention to the names being called, but she turned to see the boy from the train mounting the steps.

     James had stood at the front of the hall for ages as conversation and cheers swelled around him. It had slowly been getting louder as the sorting had dragged on past the half hour mark, and then “POTTER, JAMES!” echoed from the front of the hall. As he climbed the steps it slowly dawned on him that the entire hall had fallen silent, and every pair of eyes were fixed firmly on him. He did not have time to think this through before the sorting hat came down over his head. _Half-Potter and Half-Weasley,_ said a voice in his head. _Nothing unexpected here, unless you have a special request?_ The hat said slightly mockingly. James remained silent, not sure what the hat wanted from him. _All right then, if you have nothing to add…_ “GRYFFINDOR!” James was not nearly as excited as he would have imagined earlier. Now that he was sorted, all he wanted to do was get to Victoire and Teddy, away from the crowd that had shifted from silence to whispers. His walk to the Gryffindor tables passed in a blur, and to his surprise, when he found his friends, they could barely contain their laughter.

     “Did you see his face?” wheezed Teddy, pounding on the oak table. Victoire could not have heard him as her face was buried in her arms on the table. Her gales of laughter were shaking her entire body. James plunked down next to them and gave them a scowl.

     “Would either of you like to tell me what this is all about? You've been hinting at something for weeks now and it’s not funny anymore! And now this,” snapped James. He kept attracting odd looks all the way through the sorting and into the feast. Victoire and Teddy weren’t helping matters, as the entire night they told anyone that tried to talk to him, “Yes, he’s James Potter. Yes, that Potter.Autographs are one sickle apiece.” When one girl actually tried to take them up on it in the common room, James gave up and went to bed. He climbed the spiraling stone staircase up to a series of circular rooms, and in the third first year dorm he came to, found his trunk at the foot of a rich four poster bed. James fell onto the soft sheets, and gratefully fell asleep.


	5. Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New friends and unanswered questions

Classes

 

 

     Bel was unpleasantly roused from her four poster bed by an alarm clock that screeched, “IT’S YOUR FIRST DAY AT HOGWARTS! WOULDN’T WANT TO BE LATE,” incessantly until everyone was out of their beds. Although it had taken a bit to haul herself out of bed, Bel was thankful that she wasn’t the only one who found it difficult to get up at six o’clock in the morning. One girl with long chestnut hair actually managed to ignore the cruel alarm for almost ten minutes.

     She hadn’t paid much attention to it the previous night, being completely exhausted, but now she was able to take good look at her new dormitory. The room was spacious, even with ten large green-draped four poster beds spaced along the walls. This was partially because the beds and accompanying wardrobes were tucked into little indentations in the wall, giving each girl at least some privacy, and leaving the center of the room clear. Other thanthe space, the second thing that Bel noticed about the room was how _green_ it was. The carpet running along the length of the room was green and black, and it looked luxuriously thick and soft. The tapestries on the wall and beds were in emerald hues, and softened the harshness of the stone walls, floor, and ceiling. But most astonishingly, even the light was green. The flames in the fireplace burned emerald, and from outside the slitted windows high on the walls, the filtered light from the outside world was also green. _Almost as if filtered through water…are we under the lake? No that’s not possible…_

     Bel put on her uniform, still gazing in wonder at the room, and turned to see Cat still in her pajamas. “What are you doing, Cat? You should be getting dressed,” Bel said, her heart sinking.

     Cat crossed her arms defiantly and sat down on her unmade bed with an exasperated huff. “No way am I wearing _that_ dingy old uniform. It’s ridiculous. You can’t look me in the eye and tell me you like it. Besides, do they actually expect us to wear _skirts_? Every single day?”

     Bel rolled her eyes and reached into her trunk to grab her brush.It’s not that they were that ugly—no, they weren’t ugly— Cat just detested skirts, not that Bel liked them that much either. The shirts were plain white button-downs, and the grey wool sweaters were adorned with the Slytherin emblem. And robes…emerald green on the inside…she assumed were to be worn at all times, given the rather chilly mountain air outside. The skirts, however, were a different story. Pleats and all, they were going to look like muggle schoolgirls from decades ago.

     “You’re right, they definitely leave something to be desired. I don’t like skirts much more than you do,” Bel sighed, as she brushed her hair—somewhat unsuccessfully—but managed to tie it up behind her head in a sloppy ponytail. “But you still have to wear them today, _whether you like it or not._ Leave the inevitable skirt crusade until at least tomorrow, please.” Bel grabbed the skirt from Cat’s uniform off the ground and threw it at her. “We’ve had this conversation before, after Diagon Alley, remember? You promised to behave for the first few days. Come on, or Scorpius and I will just have to leave you.”

     Breakfast was pretty good, at least in Bel’s opinion. Cat didn’t like it because it had eggs—Cat didn’t enjoy eggs—and she was still quietly fuming from the skirt debacle earlier. Scorpius was rather pleased with the uniform, and had even taken the time to make an effort with his hair instead of letting it hang over his eyes like normal. Of course the sight of Scorpius’s nice black pants had elicited another round of barely audible growling from Cat.

     As they walked, Bel realized for the first time exactly how many students there were at Hogwarts. The hallways were filled past bursting, students were pushing and shoving, and there was a decent amount of yelling reverberating as older kids tried to navigate their younger siblings towards their classes (or away from classes as the case may be. Bel distinctly heard one first year informed that Potions was in a tower). If Bel hadn’t been clinging to Scorpius and Cat, she would’ve definitely gotten lost as well. She had imagined that Hogwarts would be a sort of grand, stoic kind of place, the hallways eerily empty yet enchantingly alluring. At the moment, it was definitely chaotic and loud.

     Scorpius veered to the right down a staircase that led to the section of the dungeons where potions classes were held. Thankfully, Bel had overheard from some of the older Slytherins lecturing other first years, so she knew it was directly down the hall from the Slytherin common room. The dungeons were a bit less crowded, since the only class held down in them was Potions, and the crowd gradually thinned out until there were only thoroughly confused Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. The dungeons, in contrast to the Slytherin common room, were dark, damp, and dimly lit.

     “These dungeons are so musty it’ll be a miracle if I go the year without getting sick from it,” Cat complained as the three of them strolled into the classroom.

     “Come on, Cat.” Scorpius groaned, sharing a long-suffering look with Bel. Although Cat was normally good-natured, if something annoyed her the mood had a tendency to last all day.The Potions classroom, to Bel’s surprise, was well lit and roomy. Apparently only dungeon corridors were neglected. There were probably ten or twenty high-topped tables strewn around the room, with stools pushed neatly underneath them. Each table could easily hold five students and their cauldrons. Against one wall was an unnerving cabinet full of something-or-other that had to be secured with a steel padlock the size of a textbook; Bel made a mental note to not go near it. The blackboard at the front of the class had a large amount of poor handwriting scrawled across it—formulas, equations, some sort of list—Bel couldn’t tell. Multiple white stubs of chalk were laid at the bottom of the board, along with an eraser that had seen better days. No teacher was in the classroom, so students wandered around the classroom or sat at desks with their friends. She noticed James walk in and nudged Scorpius and Cat toward a few desks near the back of the room, as far away from the strange boy as they could get.

     James entered the room hesitantly, not knowing anyone. People who asked for autographs definitely didn’t count he decided, shuddering as he spotted the girl that had been willing to pay Teddy from last night waving at him from the front row. When his eyes landed on Bel, Scorpius and Cat, he turned in the opposite direction. He eventually decided on a desk in the front of the class occupied by a kind looking Gryffindor girl, whom he had not noticed the night before in the swarm of students being directed to dormitories.

     James pulled out _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger, extracted his quill and ink, and dropped his bag down with a thump on the scuffed floor. He quickly became bored with the class, as it seemed nothing would be done today, so he pulled out the small composition notebook he had dedicated to Potions and began to formulate a scathing letter to his parents. He had heard students who were wandering towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts class murmuring something about Harry Potter, andthis combined with his experiences last night had combined to make him furious. _How could they send me here without saying anything,_ he fumed as he scrawled out the letter.

     In the back of the room, a door unseen by almost all the first years swung open to reveal the most average looking man Bel had ever seen. He walked right past her and she stared curiously at him until he turned around to face the class.

     The man was of middling height, but had no interesting or distinctive features. His hunched posture, mousy brown hair parted on the left, and his rectangular glasses would have been equally at home anywhere. His eyes were also a dull brown color, Bel observed as he scanned the classroom. His robes were all black, and he seemed relatively normal. At least as normal as any wizard could really be, and spectacularly average for Hogwarts, according to some of the stories Bel had heard at the Manor. Hogwarts teachers usually ran more on the werewolf or half-giant end of the spectrum.He turned sharply on his heels and began to clean the blackboard with the beaten up eraser. The man dropped it when he was done and picked up a stub of white chalk, scrawling a name in the same horribly illegible handwriting on the board. The noise of the chalk screeching across the black board made numerous students, including Bel, wince in their seats. The man, whom Bel had officially decided was the most boring teacher in the world, tossed the chalk down on the table in front of him and finally took it upon himself to address the class.

“Hello, class.” He pompously straightened out his robes and began to pace around the front of the room. “My name is Evander Thorne…Professor Thorne to all of you. I hope you will remember to stay awake in my class.” He slammed his hand down on the desk of a student who had decided to attempt to catch up on the sleep the awful alarm clocks had deprived them all of. “And if you do such and apply yourself in my class, you will do fine.” Professor Thorne turned around, and continued to lecture the class about the “Do’s and Don’ts” of potions. Probably his standard first day of school spiel. The teacher had very clearly lost the attention of half the class; students' heads were nodding and eyes were drooping. Some kids even had their heads on the table and eyes closed, napping. _Almost up to Binns' legendary standards,_ thought Bel dimly.

     James was nearly done with his letter to his parents, when Professor Thorne pounced.

"Mr. Potter.”

"Yes sir?" James hastily closed the cover of his notebook before Thorne could see it, and fervently hoped the ink that had yet to dry didn't smear.

"Since you obviously know _so_ much about what not to do when brewing a potion that you find you can so carelessly ignore me, should you or should you not begin brewing before you've read all instructions?" he snapped.

     Despite knowing the answer—something he felt was painfully obvious—James felt a slight twinge of embarrassment for being pointed out. He shifted uneasily in his seat and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Professor Thorne.

"Just as I thought. You may consider paying attention in class before letting the status of your parents pollute your judgement,” he sneered before turning away.

Bel found herself stifling a laugh at Professor Thorne's comment to James, but at the same time confused. What did James's parents have to do with how he acted in class? James seemed to be a perfectly normal mildly terrified first year—wha``t was so special about him? The rest of the class seemed to be in on the joke, judging by the snickers that were much too loud to be just pleasure at another’s misfortune and relief about their own escape. Bel pulled a piece of paper out of her notebook and wrote a note to Scorpius.

Scorpius, who actually had been doing his best to pay attention in class, jolted a bit when Bel elbowed him to draw his attention to her note. He picked it up and read it quickly.

Do you think James's parents had anything to do with mine? Scorpius looked to Bel and shrugged. He scrawled back,

I couldn't tell you, but it's worth checking out. The adults at home certainly don’t like Harry Potter much, so that’s promising.

     Bel began to write a response when she noticed Professor Thorne glaring at her as he spoke. She didn't want to be the second victim of his ridicule in the first twenty minutes of class, so she gently set down the quill and whispered to Scorpius, "We'll talk about this later."

     When Potions had ended, much to every student’s pleasure, James found himself wandering the halls of Hogwarts by himself. He had no actual friends in his own year with whom he could walk from class to class…well at least not yet. James fully intended to make plenty of friends. _But definitely not that Bel girl from the train,_ he thought.

     James rushed up the staircase out of the dungeons, and felt some of the older students shove past him, almost sending him tumbling back down the flight. He barely regained his balance, and managed to push his way through the crowded hallways towards where Teddy and Victoire had told him the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was held. He had been curious as to why the class was still necessary, considering there hadn’t been any major threat against all of wizard-kind in years. According to his dad, even the Auror office had been quiet for ages.

     The classroom came up on his left sooner than James had anticipated. The only reason he didn't pass it was because of the swarm of first year Gryffindors crowding into the space. It was larger than the Potions dungeon, but James assumed that was because they had to practice spells, and a confined space wouldn't work for spellwork. The room felt cramped, however, due to the four rows of ten desks each, two seats per desk. Nearly every seat was taken by the time James managed to shove his way through the door. He scanned the room for an empty seat, and there were only two he found: one right in front of the teacher's desk and another near the middle of the classroom. Pushing through students, James fought his way to the desk in the middle of the room and sat down next to a girl he had, again, failed to notice the previous night. He set his bag down on the floor and turned to the girl.

     "I'm James Potter. What's your name?" He tried to sound as friendly as possible, so as not to come off as arrogant or snarky. That seemed to be most people’s initial opinion of him.

     "Potter? You mean Harry Potter's son?" The girl asked, seemingly amazed.

     "Yes, but I already told you who I was. What's your name?" James already regretted his decision to introduce himself, annoyed with whatever was so fascinating about his father. "No need to be rude," the girl remarked as she pushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. "I'm Agnes Holloway. You can call me Holly though. I don't understand why my parents named me Agnes. It's a horrible name, isn't it? They said it was my great-great-great-grandmother’s name or something."

     "Well, I don't think Agnes is a horrible name. We both got off quite lucky in the name department if you ask me. My brother is saddled with Albus Severus,” James replied, trying his best to get on Holly’s good side so he would have someone to talk to in classes. She had been in Potions too, and seemed to be in his group of Gryffindor first years.

     Holly looked at James sideways. "Thanks."

     "Hello everyone!" Silence fell over the room, and everyone shifted their gaze to the stairs. James turned his attention to the staircase at the front of the room. A slim woman was descending the stairs, dark hair flowing out behind her.

     She wore a dark brown skirt and light orange flowing shirt underneath her earth-colored robes. She had black wavy hair, dark tan skin, and piercing blue eyes that shone out against the dark colors. She was quite petite, but had an air about her that made her intimidating despite her small stature. A wide smile spread across her face, and she seemed relatively young, which put James at ease. He'd already had enough of snooty teachers, and it was only the first day of school.

     “So, as you all know—if you managed to find the right classroom—this is Defense Against the Dark Arts," the teacher said as she neared the black board in the front of the room. "My name is Kefira Toran." She wrote her name on the blackboard. "I can assume that the one question you all still have, however, is 'Why is this class necessary?' Does anyone have any ideas?" Nobody in the room seemed to want to answer her question."None?" The room remained quiet.

     "It's hard to think of any reasons, isn't it? Many people have argued that this class is pointless because no major threats have occurred in years, including many of my students who just want to lighten their course load. Of course there are small creatures, but the chance of anyone encountering one is very slim. The biggest threat to wizard-kind happened over ten years ago with Voldemort's rise to power, and since he was defeated by Harry Potter and his friends, nothing else has endangered us.” James raised his hand, and Professor Toran nodded at him, signaling that he could speak.

     “What exactly did Harry and his friends do?” James asked.

     “That's an excellent question, Mr.-”

     “James,” he replied, slightly embarrassed. “James Potter.” Professor Toran’s eyes widened a bit at the mention of his last name. _Surely he must be joking, he just wants to show off in front of his new friends,_ she thought. Some kids sent glares in James’s direction. They stopped when Professor Toran cleared her throat.

     “What kind of idiot are you?” Holly whispered sharply. “How can you not know about what your dad did in the Second Wizarding War?”

     “Ask him that. He hasn't told me anything.” James replied defensively.

     “Well, as we all know, the Second Wizarding War occurred because of Voldemort’s second rise to power,” At the mention of Voldemort’s name, some students shifted uneasily in their seats. Professor Toran plowed on, regardless. “During his control of our world, he attempted to eradicate all Muggle-borns, he infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and changed laws to help ferret them out. His plan, if he had succeeded in dominating the wizarding world, was to then conquer the Muggle world as well. When Voldemort first returned, the Ministry was in denial. This made it easy for Voldemort and his followers, called Death Eaters, to overthrow the Ministry. The battle, which had previously been on a predominately political scape due to threatening statements from the corrupted Ministry, turned into an all out war. The very school you’re in sustained immense physical damage. After many unfortunate incidents, Harry finally delivered a fatal blow to Voldemort. He died in the courtyard, and with his death the war ended. Many of the Death Eaters were killed or imprisoned.”

     Hands shot up in the air; James had opened a can of worms. Students were talking amongst each other and it took Professor Toran a while to quiet everyone down. Everyone seemed to have an opinion or a story, ranging from quite reasonable to Quibbler-worthy.

     “One at a time everyone!” She pointed at a girl in the front row off to the left a bit.

     “What does the Ministry of Magic actually do? If they couldn’t stop V-V-You Know Who, what use are they?” The girl put her hand down.

     “They're like our government. They make the laws and enforce them. Most of the time they are quite effective, but even the Auror department was not equipped to handle Voldemort.”

     One boy couldn't wait to be called on so he shout out his question. “Did Voldemort have a real name?”

     Professor Toran froze, apparently contemplating whether or not to tell them. “Yes, he did. His name was Tom Riddle. He went to Hogwarts and was a member of Slytherin house.” After she answered that question, almost all the hands in the room went down. All of them except James’s hand.

     “Yes, Mr. Potter.”

     “How exactly did Harry kill Voldemort?” James asked. Toran stayed quiet for a moment. James could see her body tense a bit.

     “Well, uh, you see-it’s… It’s a complicated bit of magic. Voldemort did something, it was considered very inhumane—and it still is. What he did, um…” Professor Toran’s voice quickly faded away under the locked eyes of 80 students staring at her for a long time. Their eyes pierced through the silence and seemed to hold her captive. “Well, never mind. What he did was bad, and so he died because of it. He was killed in the end with a charm that typically doesn't do bodily harm to any wizard, but because his body was in bad condition before the charm struck him, and other unusual circumstances, it killed him. We’ll be learning more about it as time goes on, but this is not the appropriate time.”

     Students looked around the room, and eventually, almost all eyes were on James. He looked to Holly, who was looking him dead in the eye with an almost accusing look.

     “What?” James said.

     “Nothing.”

     “Okay everyone. Um, now that we’re done with questions—which we are, Mr. Abercrombie—take out your textbooks. We’ll be reading a bit about Dark Creatures and Dangerous Beasts. Even if they are rare, it is just as important to learn how to handle them as to defend yourselves against other wizards, whether garden variety or Dark Lords. However, your homework, due anytime this term before Christmas Break, will be to write a paper of at least 600 words—that’s 14 inches— on The Tragedy of the Wizarding Wars and Why They Must Never Be Allowed to Happen Again, as you seem to be so interested in it.” That elicited a collective groan from the class.

     “I was hoping I would at least go a day without homework,” Holly sighed under her breath.

     James smiled to himself as he pulled out his textbook. “What did you expect? It's school.”

 

✶ ✶ ✶

 

     Homework had preoccupied all Bel’s time for too long, delaying her trip to the library. Ever since the first day in potions, she’d been as curious about Harry Potter as she had always been about who her real parents were. The idea that the two topics might be connected remained a tantalizing idea. As time went on, she heard bits and pieces of what Harry did in the Second Wizarding War, but always disjointed and without any real substance to them. Bel was dead set on visiting the library today, and didn't know how much longer she could wait to begin researching her parents. If Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius hadn't kept her in the dark, she wouldn't have to scavenge for information herself.

     After dinner that evening, Bel dragged Scorpius and Cat with her to the library. They had wanted to go back to the common room and rest before Astronomy that night, but Bel insisted that this was the perfect time to begin. It took them longer than they had anticipated to get there, but only because Cat had insisted she knew a shortcut. She didn't. After what felt like days of wandering through the darkening halls of Hogwarts, the trio finally made it to the library.

     It was larger than any library Bel had ever imagined. She’d never actually seen one, aside from the room in Scorpius’s home that had held all the books in her world, and her imagination had apparently failed her in picturing what a real library would look like. The library at Hogwarts was much more incredible than Bel had anticipated.

     Shelves stretched high up to the arched ceiling far above their heads. There were small tables between each shelf, so students could work without having to leave the section they were looking into. Small desk lamps sat on the tables so one could do late night research. Books flew this way and that, placing themselves back on shelves. Bel wondered if the library even needed a librarian. Regardless, there was one.

     Madame Pince, sat studiously behind a large desk, thin wire rimmed glasses halfway down the bridge of her nose. Her dark brown and steel hair was pulled back in a tight bun. When Bel placed her hand on the desk, Madame Prince looked up from the book she was reading. Closing the book, she set it down next to a stereotypically pointy hat, and addressed Bel coldly. “How may I help you?”

     “Um, I would like to see any books pertaining to the Second Wizarding War please,” Bel said. Scorpius nudged her a bit and she stood straighter. “Also, how many books are we allowed to check out at a time?”

     Madame Pince scanned her eyes down a list, although Bel doubted she needed to. “Any books on the Second Wizarding War will be in Recent Wizarding History—somewhere around Rows 27-40. Look at the sides of the bookshelves for an index of books on the shelf. You may check out two books per student at a time, just be sure to come tell me about it before you go waltzing out of the library with any of my books.” Madame Pince looked down at Bel, Scorpius and Cat with a stern eye and pointed them in the direction of the section.

     “Thank you ma’am.” Bel turned on her heels and started walking briskly towards the Recent Wizarding History. “All right, guys. We don't have a lot of time, since the library closes at 10. We need to cover as much of it as we can, and check out the most promising ones we find.”

     “Bel, we have Astronomy tonight,” Cat complained. “Why can't we do this tomorrow night or this weekend?”

     “Because. Haven’t we been trying of figure this out for years? Besides, we still have Toran’s Christmas present to deal with.” Scorpius reasoned.

     “Don't snap Scorp, I understand where she's coming from. I know it’s rotten timing with Astronomy and being up until one in the morning, but this is the first time we’ve had, and I need your help. Besides, you guys are just as curious as I am. They’ve been lying to you too,” Bel said as she wove her way through the labyrinthine shelves. She chose a book off the shelf titled _The War of the Century_ by Marian Whittaker. It was a sizable book, and with one glance at the table of contents, Bel could tell it might be useful. She flipped to the page that pertained to the specific Death Eaters involved in the war, and turned to Scorpius and Cat. “Look for any books about Death Eater incidents, or books about specific Death Eaters. Find two books each, and we're out of here.”

     Scorpius and Cat spread out in opposite directions, and Bel continued to rifle through the books in her spot, searching desperately for answers. She was looking for a book on Death Eaters, because that _had_ to be what her parents had been. Nothing else made sense, and there was nowhere else to start. No matter how hard she tried, however, she couldn't find anything exclusively about Death Eaters. Bel flipped through what seemed to be hundreds of books, skimming pages for names or families, anything specific. She found nothing. It was as if history was in denial. Although a small part of her screamed a bit on the inside, she made an extremely exasperated noise that was only slightly louder than she intended. Heads turned, James’s included (he was apparently researching the First Wizarding War for Toran’s essay) and within an instant Scorpius and Cat came around the corner.

     “Bel?” Cat gently put a hand on her shoulder.

     “I don't get it. There's nothing. Nothing! There's not a single thing that seems relevant. What if it’s something awful and that’s why they didn’t tell us?” Bel cried. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She had been waiting and wondering for too long to accept nothing, but finding out would be almost as bad.

     “Hey, Bel, it's ok.” Scorpius hugged Bel tightly and as he let go, put both his hands firmly on her shoulders. “You're tired, but there's got to be something, I promise. There isn't nothing. I promise we’ll find out who your parents are, all right? Besides, I know you. You won’t be happy accepting an unanswered question for long.”

     Bel nodded her head. “Ok.”

“Bel, trust me. We _will_ find out.” Cat smiled. “But if you don't mind, I've found my two books, and I'm going to go tell Madame Pince that I'm checking them out so I don’t fall asleep in Astronomy.” With Cat hurrying ahead of them, Bel and Scorpius trailed out of the library, a stack of hefty books held precariously in a pile in Scorpius’s arms.


	6. The Memorial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memorials and sports

The Memorial

 

 

     “Scorpius, listen to me. The likelihood of a first year making it onto the team is somewhere between slim and nonexistent,” Bel pleaded.

     “Bel, I don’t need you to patronize me,” Scorpius said, chin held high as he marched confidently out to the Quidditch pitch. Bel and Cat trailed after him, frantically continuing their last minute attempt to keep him from…well…embarrassing himself. Bel and Cat had seen him practice; they had even helped him from time to time. Unfortunately, he was far from what they imagined the Slytherin team would accept, and not even in the same universe as what they were looking for. Scorpius certainly wasn’t what the team needed if they wanted to have any hope of beating Gryffindor—even once—during the entire school year. Not to say he couldn’t possibly improve, but for the past two months Bel had been suggesting that he hold off on trying out until he got in a bit more practice.

     “Scorpius, we aren’t trying to make you upset. We’re just telling you what’s practical.” Bel panted, jogging to keep up with him.

     “Oh, what’s the harm, Bel? Worst that’ll happen is that he’ll become the laughing stock of the school, or at least the house. I don’t see the problem,” Cat snickered. She had given up yesterday on trying to deter him from trying out, and had jumped on the bandwagon. While Bel did think it would be entertaining to watch Scorpius try, and possibly ram into a goalpost, she didn’t want him to be too upset if—no, when—people fell off their brooms laughing at him.

     “Yes, but Cat…” Bel spluttered before Scorpius cut her off.

     “Bel. Cat. Trust me. I. Know. What. I’m. Doing. Besides, my father made it on the team no problem. It’s in my genes.” Scorpius hurried up the rest of the way to the field, leaving Bel and Cat to rush after him.

     “Uncle Lucius let his father practice in the garden—something we were never allowed to do—except for a few times this past year. _And_ Uncle Draco was in second year when he made the team,” Bel muttered to Cat, too low for Scorpius to hear. Cat only snickered in reply.

     The bleachers, mercifully, were relatively empty aside from a few girls who were sitting on the other side of the field, and as Bel and Cat tracked up the steps to the front row of seats, they noticed that Scorpius was indeed the only first year trying out. Cat didn’t bother to stifle her laugh.

     “Look at the idiot down there. Everyone else has been playing Quidditch for at least a year, and he thinks he’s going to get a spot.” Cat sat down and pulled Bel down next to her. Bel rolled her eyes and looked down at the figures gathered on the grass near the goal hoops.

     The day was overcast, the low bottoms of the clouds forming a flat grey ceiling, not uncommon for a day in autumn at Hogwarts. The air was thick and wet, and a chill wind blew down from the mountains, cooling off the day. The students trying out were huddled around the center goal, all lazily chatting and leaning on their brooms. All of them except for Scorpius, who was nervously clutching his hand-me-down Nimbus 2001 and was standing stock still a few yards away from the others.

     “All right everyone, here’s how it’s going to work,” the captain said. He was a lanky boy, with his dark brown hair combed back neatly. He wore an emerald uniform with the number 04 and the last name Bleier printed largely on the back. “We’re going to start with a basic drill. You’ll each get a partner and you’ll take turns flying around the field, tossing the Quaffle back and forth. Last year’s Keeper, Allissa Trin, will be guarding the goals and whichever one of you has the Quaffle by the time you get to them tries to make it in.”

     Bel could see Scorpius tense a bit more (if it were even possible at that point. He was basically stone before the captain even began to speak). The captain began to go down the line, calling off names for partners. “Olivia McMyer and Ian Grov, Melanye Turner and Will Callaghan, Giana Alvi and-” When he got to Scorpius, he paused. He peered down at the younger boy. Although Scorpius was somewhat tall for his age, the captain must’ve been well over six feet tall, because he positively loomed over Scorpius. “And who are you exactly?”

     Scorpius stood up straighter and tried to seem as confident as possible. “I’m Scorpius Malfoy.” He stuttered a bit as he said his name.

     “And…why are you here? Are you lost? This is Quidditch tryouts. First years don’t play Quidditch.” Bleier commented. He crossed his arms and continued to glare at Scorpius.

     “I was planning on trying out. That’s why I’m here. It’s not against the rules for first years to be on house teams. I checked,” Scorpius said a bit less confidently.

     “You are either incredibly stupid or…I suppose you could be as good as you think you are, but I doubt it. But as I can’t actually prevent you from making a fool of yourself, you can fly with Alvi.” Scorpius’s face began to turn a bright red color. The rest of the students standing around began to snicker, and Cat couldn’t help but laugh with them.Bel felt even worse when they actually started flying. Scorpius was, to say the least, a mess. He was paired with the Giana girl, who was about the same size as Scorpius, but a far superior flyer. She had to constantly slow down and backtrack to wait for Scorpius, and most of the time when he caught up to her Scorpius would drop the Quaffle. A collective gale of laughter rippled across the pitch when Scorpius dropped the Quaffle for what felt like the thousandth time. Thankfully, Giana was the one in possession of the Quaffle when the pair finally approached the goal—she made a neat score through the left hoop—and as Scorpius descended, there was a collective mass of teasing.

     “Did you see the way he threw?” one boy said. He was doubled over clutching his chest he was laughing so hard. “Nobody throws a Quaffle underhanded!”

     “And he rode his broom all knock-kneed. That couldn’t possibly be comfortable,” one of the blonde girls chortled.

     “Bel, just look at him! We told him not to go! But it was absolutely hilarious…” Cat convulsed with laughter. Bel elbowed her sharply, nearly pushing Cat off her seat. Cat caught herself on the edge of the box, still shaking with mirth.

     “Cat!” She said sternly.

     “Bel!” Cat mimicked. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t find that funny. I heard you laughing!”

     “The last thing Scorpius will want is to get bad mouthed by his friends. Strangers are one thing. Us is another.” Bel scolded.

     “I don’t care what you say, Bel. That was hysterical. Even Scorpius will think so…in a decade or two!” Cat smiled, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Bell punched Cat lazily and began to smile. She was right, it was too funny not to laugh, but poor Scorpius.

     After dinner that evening, Bel decided it would be a good idea to take advantage of their study hall and continue to research the Death Eaters, but Scorpius thought they should go to the quad and try to make sense of what they already had. Cat, being the undecided vote, had to sit while her friends talked her ears off. She eventually landed on going to the library to see if they could find any more information, as they had sifted through what they had three times already. Scorpius silently followed Bel and Cat to the library, trailing along, completely defeated. When he finally pulled himself out of his post-Quidditch dejection, he asked the question he had been dreading to pose.

     “Was I really that bad?” Scorpius queried, almost too softly to be heard.

     Cat opened her mouth to say something, probably something witty, but Bel elbowed her in the ribs so hard she staggered to the side. Cat changed tack. “It’s not that you were bad, it’s just that you could’ve used a bit more practice, that’s all.”

     “Really?”

     “No Scorpi-” Bel bumped her again. “I mean, yeah Scorpius. It wasn’t all that bad. Maybe next year.”

     “All right.” Scorpius rounded the corner to the library and almost ran into a tall boy in Slytherin robes, with a Head Boy badge gleaming on his chest. He seemed oddly out of place coming from the library when most students his age would still be in class. He carried a ludicrous stack of books that rose up to his face, and he seemed to be struggling. The books wobbled, and without thinking, Bel hurried over to the boy and caught the one that had just began to fall off the stack before it hit the ground.

     “Be careful,” she said as she looked around the large stack of books at the boy. He had dirty blonde hair that was combed meticulously back, aside from one piece that hung in front of his blue eyes. He had a stern look on his face at first, but it lightened when he saw Bel holding one of his books. The boy would've grabbed it from her, had he any available hands.

     With a glance at the cover, Bel noticed the title of book was not written in English, but a series of strange symbols embossed in old silver. “What class is this for? This looks like some pretty esoteric magic.”

     The boy feigned an uninterested smile and knelt down a bit so Bel could set the book in the crook of his arm. “It's for Ancient Runes,” he replied in a vaguely polite voice. “I'm Jacob Zagyva. And you are?”

     “Oh, right. I'm Bel Black.” She motioned to Scorpius and Cat. “And these are my friends Scorpi-” She trailed off as she noticed the older boy staring at her intently.

     Jacob’s eyes flickered over her face, and a shadow of an emotion flashed in his eyes—surprise perhaps—before his eyes locked onto hers and he cut her off. A real smile lit his face this time. “What did you say your name was…Black? How intriguing. And I thought that the name died out in the war.How fortunate for your family—a Black just turning up out of nowhere. Who were your parents, if you don’t mind me asking?”

     Bel felt her stomach drop at the mention of her parents. “My parents did die in the war—just after I was born—and I don’t remember them. They were Abraxos and Miranda Black. My guardian is my Uncle Yaxley, but I was tutored at Malfoy Manor with my friends.” She gestured to Scorpius and Cat,still standing just behind her.

     Jacob must’ve noticed the hint of well concealed apprehension in Bel, because he almost immediately changed the direction of the conversation. He seemed even more interested than before. “I’m so sorry for your loss. What are you here at the library for?”

     Sensing Bel’s hesitation while scrambling for an answer, Cat cut in with one of her ready-made excuses. “We're working on a project for Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Jacob glared at Cat, shutting her down. “Countercurses.” She added as an after-thought. Bel shot a glance at Cat, wondering why she stopped talking so soon.She looked back to Jacob and saw his face flicker back into a smile. “Well, I wish you luck in your studies,” he said as he headed off. “I'll see you around,” he called behind him. Bel’s eyes followed him as he turned the corner and as soon as he did, she grinned at Cat.

     “Thank you for that. I couldn't think of a good excuse. We've used just about every reasonable one in the book this week.” She furrowed her brow at her friend. “Why did you stop talking? You can usually keep spinning out those stories until everyone just gives up and chooses to believe you.”

     Cat shrugged. “He looked at me strangely. Maybe he doesn't like us. We’re first years it's not exactly uncommon for first years to be ignored and teased by seventh years, is it?”

     “He did seem to be interested in talking to Bel,” Scorpius interjected. Bel rolled her eyes and Cat couldn’t help but laugh.

     “I don’t understand. It’s probably more likely that he just doesn’t like us. Can we just keep looking? I would like to get a good night’s sleep. I feel like I’ve been tired since I got on the train to this school,” Cat commented, leading them through the rows of shelves.

     “Sure, but I doubt you’ll ever catch up on sleep,” Scorpius said as he trailed after Bel and Cat into the library. He shrugged his bag higher onto his shoulder and shoved his hands grudgingly into his pockets.

     “Why can’t we just learn some basic maths? All the muggles are learning right now is that two and two equal four. They have it so easy. It would be much easier than trying to figure out who my parents are,” Bel groaned. She walked up to Madame Pince and gave her an extremely fake smile. “Good evening Madame Pince. Did Magic of the 20th Century come in yet?” Madame Pince didn’t look up from what she was doing—most likely a record of all the students that had ever dog-eared one of her precious books.

     “I know what you and your friends are up to, Miss Black. You act as though I don’t know exactly what goes on in this library.” Pince shut the document she was updating, and leaned over the counter to glare at Bel, just as Cat and Scorpius caught up to her. “I see you three looking through sections on the Wizarding Wars and checking out books on Death Eaters. I don’t know what you could possibly do with all of what you're gathering. But I do know that you’ve been visiting this library far too frequently and remaining in it far too long to still be working on the same school project you were months ago.”

     Bel shrunk away from the counter, eyes wide. “We’ll just go and work on our Defense Against the Dark Arts essay that was assigned _yesterday_. Thank you ma’am.” She turned around and started hastily towards the usual section: Recent Wizarding History, Row 37. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked. “I didn’t like the way that Jacob ignored you two. The whole thing gave me the creeps.”

     Scorpius stifled a laugh. “He seemed much too friendly, if you ask me.” Bel shot a glare in his direction, eliciting a hearty laugh from Cat.

 

✶ ✶ ✶

 

     James made his way into the Great Hall for lunch after charms and sat down across from Teddy and Victoire. He grabbed a few sandwiches from the platters spread across the table, placed them on his plate, and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. He took two bites out of his sandwich and promptly dropped it back to his plate. “I have a question.”

     “I have an answer,” Teddy replied, attempting to slice into his apple with a butter knife.

     “There was a guy who was talking to Bel as they went into the library and he had a really big stack of books. He seemed to like Bel-”

     “Here we go again,” Victoire muttered under her breath. “This doesn’t really sound like a question, James. Bear in mind that a question has a naturally inquisitive tone,” Victoire continued, loud enough to be heard over the roar.

     James let out an exasperated breath. “I’m getting there, I’m getting there, all right?” He cleared his throat and continued to talk. “Who is he? He said his name was Jacob something, I don't remember his last name.”

     “Jacob Zagyva.” Teddy and Victoire said in unison. James gave them a confused look, and Victoire continued to talk. “He’s a Slytherin prefect, and the Head Boy at that. He enforces just about every rule in the book. He doesn’t exactly go out of his way to get people in trouble, but he will catch you if you are breaking even the slightest rule. He seems to enjoy turning people over to Filch. Jacob…” Victoire hesitated for a moment. “The only good thing I can really say is that he usually turns in Slytherins just as often as the rest of us.”

     “He’s kind of a recluse, to be perfectly honest,” Teddy added as he bit into his sandwich. “I think I've only ever seen him when he's getting students in trouble, or talking to his handful of sixth and seventh year Slytherin mates. And you said he was talking to Bel and her friends? And not telling them off for tracking mud in the corridors?”

     James shook his head. “Just Bel—not so much her friends.” He took a sip of his juice. There was a part of him that wanted to ask Bel what she was talking to Jacob so intently about, but the rest of him was adamantly screaming no, so he decided against it. “He seemed to not care about the other two.”

     Teddy laughed. “No a surprise there. They're not the most inviting bunch.”

     Teddy and Victoire had a free period after lunch, so they strolled around the back of the castle to the lawn where Professor Wood was holding flying lessons. There was plenty of time, and it was a beautiful day—the omnipresent clouds of autumn chasing each other across the sky—so they decided to take the long way around. They were walking along the shore of the lake when James spotted something on a small hill where the lake met the tree line. It was a large bronze statue, twice as tall as a man, and it practically glowed in the low light, somehow seeming to catch every stray sunbeam. James changed course slightly to get a better look, and so did his friends, Teddy grumbling something to Victoire.

     “This is the memorial, isn’t it?” James asked, looking at Teddy who nodded his head, not looking particularly happy

     As he began to climb the hillock, the lines of the statue suddenly snapped into focus, and the form of a phoenix flying up out of a fire took shape. Each feather of the bird’s body was finely wrought, and the flames seemed to dance as the swirls of color in the metal mirrored those of true flames. The trio walked slowly around the sculpture, taking in the intricacies of the work. Near the bottom, on a horizontal log of the fire facing the castle, a single line was inscribed.

     “Rise and Rise Again,” read James. “What does it mean?” he asked, finally tearing his attention away from the art and back to his older friends.

     “No one knows,” answered Victoire. “Just about everyone comes out here once during their first year, and I asked Flitwick. He said that the goblins who made it refused to say.” She craned her neck back until she could see the bird’s head. “Other than the obvious reference to the rebirth of the phoenix—Flitwick said it was probably supposed to be Fawkes—in the twelve years it’s been sitting here no one has ever come up with a satisfactory answer.” She sighed, “It really is pretty at dawn and dusk. The names of our fallen—those that died in the Battle of Hogwarts—are written in fire just under the surface.”

     “We could come back after dinner if it’s that beautiful. I don’t understand why more people don’t spend time here,” James commented in a slightly puzzled voice.

     “Most people don’t come out here more than once, not without a very good reason,” Teddy replied in a strange voice, refusing to meet James’s eyes.

     “But _why_?” James pressed.

     Victoire took James’s hand and led them over to the far side of the hill. “It’s because of the other half of the memorial.” A great ring of discolored grass marred the landscape. It was perhaps twenty yards in diameter, with slightly uneven edges, and a small metal _something_ in the exact center. “They say it’s where they burned the unclaimed bodies of the other side. They dug a pit in the ground and built a giant pyre. Some of the creatures too, the Acromantulas. And _him_ if you believe the stories.” As James followed Teddy down the hill and onto the grass, he felt a chill run through the air as he stepped into the circle. The grass crunched beneath his feet, and it was yellowed as if dying. The strangest feeling crawled down his spine, as if the ground itself resented his presence here.

     “Is it always like this here?” James asked quietly, glancing around the dead patch of ground.

     “It’s been like this for at least as long as the seventh years have been here. The grass never dies, but it never really grows either— just stays this sickly yellow. It’s always a bit colder here than on the rest of the grounds, summer and winter. It gives every sane person the creeps, even the Slytherins. No one really likes to talk about it, especially the teachers.It was really rare to get that much out of any of them. Even if the questions were asked about the more pleasant half,” replied Teddy. Soon they reached the small plaque that marked the center of the distortion. It was about a foot square, and made of the same sort of bronze as the statue.

     “Every Soul Will Taste Death,” read Victoire in a flat voice. “We came, you’ve seen it. You ever going to come back?” Victoire was shivering in the strange chill of the cursed ground.

     James turned around in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful bird and the dead grass. “No, I think this is a once in a life time experience.”

     “Finally,” Victoire muttered as she half ran back towards the castle. “Better hurry or you’ll miss class,” she called over her shoulder. Teddy and James hurried to catch up to her, and though neither would admit it, to leave the cursed ground behind them as quickly as possible. The three walked in an uncomfortable silence until a knot of students with brooms could be seen on a grassy field. Victoire and Teddy hurried back to the warmth of the castle, and James trudged on to class.

     He had just fished out the least dilapidated broomstick that was left in the sad assortment lying on the grass, when he was startled by the sound of running footsteps. _Someone is cutting it even closer than I was_ , he thought distantly. It became slightly more important when he realized that the dark haired girl that joined him in sifting through the broomsticks was none other than Bel.

     The loud voice of Professor Wood rang out over the heads of the students, “Everyone picked partners? Right you late lot can split Goyle with Malfoy, and Potter with Black.” He then started throwing out large soft balls from a bag on the ground. “Every pair take a beach ball and practice throwing it to your partner— _and only your partner_ —while flying around the field. Right, mount up!” Wood called out and blew his piercing whistle.

     James looked at Bel with dismay. Before he could say anything, she glared at him. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but let’s just get this over with.” She threw a leg over her broom and kicked off into the air and began to circle over his head. _It’s just for one class,_ James fumed as he, too, took off into the air, carrying their ball with him. He threw it at Bel, probably harder than he should have, but it bounced harmlessly off her shoulder, and she caught it before it had fallen more than a few feet. Bel had to dive to catch the ball from James’s badly aimed throw, She sent him her nastiest glare before aiming it straight at his face and giving it all the speed she could in retaliation. It was worth the Professor blowing his whistle at her to see the look on James’s face as he swerved to avoid being smacked in the nose. Of course, the next throw that nearly knocked her off her broom was not nearly so satisfying. She was soon chasing James across the sky, dodging other students as their silent war intensified. After the first few minutes, even the whistle blowing stopped.Wood had apparently given up on disciplining them.

     It turned out to be a much more satisfying class than James had expected. Attempting to unseat Bel was quite effective at taking his mind off the chilling reminder of the war from before he was born. Once he actually saw her flight falter, and he felt a twinge of guilt for the viciousness of his last attack, but only a twinge as the return was, if anything, stronger than his original throw had been. It took quite a bit of effort to make a ball weighing only a few ounces sting.

     When it was finally time to descend to the ground, James was worn out but exhilarated. He had forgotten how fun it was to fly with someone who actually knew what they were doing, even if it was _with_ only by the loosest of definitions. He could almost forgive her strangeness before he remembered. _She is poking her nose into the people that caused a large part of the grounds to be uninhabitable just by being buried there over a decade ago. Nothing good can come of it._


	7. The Restricted Section

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thieves and Vandals

The Restricted Section

 

 

     Bel pelted through the corridors with Scorpius and Cat close on her heels. They were late for Transfiguration, and Professor Patil was going to kill them. Bel swung around the final corridor and yanked open the heavy wooden door. The classroom was already packed, and it was not immediately clear where the three remaining desks were located. However, as Bel’s eyes swept the classroom—filled to bursting with half the Slytherin first years still sitting on desks and talking up a storm—it was immediately apparent that Patil had not arrived yet. She let out a sigh of relief that suddenly shifted into a groan half-way through. _There are the three empty seats,_ she thought. _They are even together. Too bad they are in the front row, directly in front of Patil’s desk. Probably why they are empty five minutes after class was supposed to start._ Bel walked reluctantly up the center aisle between the rows of desks. Scorpius and Cat trailed her dejectedly. Bel thought she heard Scorpius mutter something almost inaudible under his breath. It probably was something along the lines of “better to skive off than sit there.” Although Bel heartily agreed with the sentiment, sitting under Patil’s nose was not quite as bad as her wrath if she found out they were skipping class. Bel dumped her bag on the flagstones under her desk, and plopped into the seat. Her heart was still pounding swiftly from running all the way from the library and putting away all their books after Madam Pince had yelled at them, that she did not hear the small voice hissing up at her for several seconds.

     When Bel registered the voice, she glanced angrily at Cat, pretending to be a snake Bel would have to ignore would—and had—strike her as funny, but she was busy digging through her own bag, trying to find her copy of the textbook. Her heart sinking,Bel’s eyes slid over her desk until they came to rest on the little creature twisted through a branch on the top of her desk. _Pleasssse, Pleasssse don’t hurt me,_ said the tiny emerald grass snake only a foot from Bel’s astonished eyes.

_This day just keeps getting better and better,_ thought Bel. _First being late and now a snake. Of course it somehow knew I could understand it. They always did._ Bel twisted in her seat so she could get a look at the door into Pavarti Patil’s office. _Still closed, I can still escape before she comes. If I were sitting in the back of the room, she might not notice, but here, only a few feet away, she is bound to notice something._ Bel quickly weighed her options and stuffed her book and wand back into her bag. Best not to risk it. A shudder ran through her as she hurried back up the aisle to the door remembering the only time she had spoken back to the snakes that had always plagued her. Aunt Narcissa had yelled at her for nearly three hours. It was the only time that she had ever yelled at her, and it was impossible to forget. It had ended with a five-year-old Bel in tears, promising ardently to never do it again, even if no one could see or hear. She had never broken that promise, and in the weeks before leaving for Hogwarts, Uncle Lucius had made her promise not even to let anyone suspect her talent. She had not known that he even knew about that incident.

     Bel strode across the open stretch of grass on the quad, intent on going back to the library. She would use the extra time to finish her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework so she could continue researching her past with Scorpius and Cat later. As she walked, Bel was quite unaware of the distant pair of eyes following her truant progress across the grounds.

     Several hours later Bel, Scorpius, and Cat sat in a patch of early evening sunlight streaming in from the tall windows on one wall of the study niche that they had commandeered when they had first started living in the library outside of classes. They were surrounded by the familiar teetering stacks of books on recent wizarding history. Each of them had been read and reread carefully over the past few months, but they had yielded depressingly few bits of useful information. Virtually the only new fact that they had uncovered was that Abraxos and Miranda Black had no documented child. In fact, it would have been impossible, even for a witch, for Miranda to have hidden a child during the war—she had been depressingly active. Not that Bel had really believed for a minute that the cover story emerging after an afternoon of Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius locking themselves in Uncle Lucius’ study was true, but they had checked it out, just in case. Besides, they hadn’t known where else to start.

     They faced the same dilemma now. All available routes of inquiry had ended in loops of frustration, and all progress had stalled. Not that they didn’t know where the answers were. In fact, Bel could see them from where she sat slumped in an old plush armchair. The gilded letters of _An Account of the Second Wizarding War: The Movements and Atrocities of Death Eaters_ winked at Bel from the first shelf of the restricted section. The three inch thick tome accounted for the whereabouts of all known Death Eaters for the entirety of the war. It was the next step, and it promised to at least reveal a short list of women who had disappeared long enough to be her mother, assuming she had been a Death Eater, which was their only theory. Unfortunately, the book might as well have been locked in the Department of Mysteries for all the use it would do them—Madam Pince’s desk was only a few yards away from the entrance, and in her opinion first years had no business knowing the names of those books, let alone reading them.

     If it hadn’t been for Toran’s monster of an essay on “The Tragedy of the Wizarding Wars and Why They Must Never Be Allowed to Happen Again,” Bel would have given up on it entirely, but the essay provided a wafer-thin excuse for trying to find the book. _The Movements and Atrocities of Death Eaters_ was mentioned in _A Brief History of the Wizarding Wars_ , and it was just barely plausible that Bel had seen it there. She could pretend not to have known it was restricted. Bel thought it was worth a try, but Cat and Scorpius thought drawing Pince’s attention was only one tiny step short of suicidal. Of course, Bel was going to try it anyway, and as the essay was due next class, her window of opportunity was shrinking rapidly.

     Bel slipped quietly out of their niche, managing not to disturb her friends, and made her way up to Pince’s desk. She stopped in front of the little silver plaque that said Reference Desk—not that any student she had ever heard of had actually asked Pince for help—and waited for Pince to notice her. The greying librarian had always reminded Bel a little bit of a sleeping dragon. The librarian turned her steely stare on Bel, and Bel felt the little bit of confidence that she had scraped together shrivel up and die in her chest.

     “What do you want?” barked Pince.

     “I…I have an essay on the war for Professor Toran?” wavered Bel. “I was reading _A Brief History of the Wizarding Wars,_ and came across a mention of _An Account of the Second Wizarding War: The Movements and Atrocities of Death Eaters,_ and I thought it might be helpful. But I can’t find it. Do you…can you help me find it….” Bel trailed off her carefully crafted rationalization under Pince’s double barreled glare.

     “I know everything that goes on in this library. Don’t think I missed your little project. This interest in the Dark Arts started well before any essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. So far, you have broken no school rules, but I’m watching you. The moment you do, I will march you straight down to the Headmistress’s office. Children of Death Eaters have no business poking their noses where yours has been. As for _An Account of the Second Wizarding War: The Movements and Atrocities of Death Eaters,_ it is in the Restricted Section, where it belongs. Which you knew perfectly well. I was in school with Abraxos and Miranda Black, and they had no respect for the rules either. Get out of my sight.” With that Pince slammed shut the book she had been perusing—probably for damage—and stormed off.

     Bel slunk back to the little nook where Scorpius and Cat had observed the explosion. Her legs wobbled visibly as she sank back into her armchair. That had been an entirely too close call. Bel hadn’t known that Pince had been at Hogwarts at the same time as Abraxos and Miranda. She had drawn too much attention from Pince, and if she continued, Pince might figure out her secret. Bel had no idea what Abraxos and Miranda had been like, but she doubted that her story would hold together under the scrutiny of anyone who had known them. As those thoughts whirled through her head, Bel looked up and met another glare, this time from Scorpius.“I thought we agreed not to try that!” he hissed. “She was never going to fall for that. You almost got caught, the entire library knows what we've been doing, and now you've tipped Pince off. I told you we should have just stolen it.”

     As soon as Scorpius said that, Bel could suddenly feel a hundred pairs of eyes on their little enclave. Most of the other students, even the other first years, wore looks of undisguised dislike. The wounds left by the Battle of Hogwarts were still raw, and Bel sank even lower in her seat as she muttered, “I guess we’ll just have to take it tonight.” Cat grinned as she unfurled that parchment the contained their painstakingly drawn map of the library.

 

✶ ✶ ✶

 

     James also had found an accustomed spot in the library to do his homework. It was a window ledge overlooking the grounds, with a scarlet cushion and a little stone slab jutting out of the walls that he used as a desk. The window seat also had the added advantage of being separated from Bel’s enclave by only one shelf of the Magical Beasts section. Normally he had to strain his ears to hear bits and pieces of their conversation—even though there was only a single shelf separating them the books were quite thick—but the encounter between Bel and Madam Pince was audible to the entire library. Now, even though they were back to whispering behind the books and he could only hear every third word, the meaning was clear. James could hear Scorpius whispering furiously, “…we agreed…try that!…never going to fall…tipped Pince off…stolen it.” Then James heard Bel, “take it tonight.”

     The charms book fell off James’ lap as he scrambled to gather his things, stuffing them into his bag in a haphazard fashion. They were going to steal a book from the restricted section! A book about Death Eaters, and they were going to take it tonight. James left the library at a sprint, taking the stairs two at a time, leaping over the vanishing step on the moving staircases on his way down to the Great Hall.

     James swung around the wooden door and down the length of the second Gryffindor table, until he saw Teddy and Victoire just beginning to eat lunch. James’ bag sailed onto the bench and he slid down after it breathing hard. “You’ll…never guess…what I just heard…in the library,” he panted.

     Teddy and Victoire looked at him like he was insane. Victoire seized a glass of pumpkin juice from the table and thrust it at James. “Here,” she said, looking confused.

     “Thanks,” gasped James. He gulped down the juice as his friends watched impatiently.

     “Never mind about the library, it can’t be better than what I saw coming back from Divination,” Teddy blurted excitedly. “The Head’s office was ransacked, papers and broken glass on the stairs and spilling out into the hallway. Apparently McGonagall was out, and no one noticed until class let out for lunch. You should have seen her. I thought she was going to blast whoever did it to smithereens!”

     “Who did it? Why did they break in? Did they take anything?” exclaimed James, forgetting for the moment about what he had overheard in the library.

     “No one knows,” said Victoire. “As soon as teachers came out to see what the commotion was, we were all rushed from the hallway. By the time McGonagall got there they had almost cleared hallway. But by the looks of the destruction in the corridor, the office must have been an absolute wreck! They might never figure out what was taken! Everyone was in class, no one saw anything.”

     A vision seen from the Charms window of a figure rushing across the quad suddenly burst into James’s mind. “Not everyone was in class today. I saw Bel on the quad today. She must have skived off whatever class she was supposed to be taking. Then just before I came here she got into this huge fight with Pince. She wanted to get a book from the restricted section for Toran’s essay, but Pince reckoned that she was just researching the Dark Arts.I was on the window seat—you know the one where you can sort of hear what they're saying”

     At this Teddy and Victoire exchanged an exasperated look. Although they agreed that Bel was not completely on the level, they thought that the lengths James had been going lately to prove this were just a bit loony. _Here we go again,_ thought Teddy.

     James plowed on, choosing to ignore the silent exchange. “And I heard them talking about taking it tonight! We've got to follow them under the invisibility cloak and see what they take. Especially after the Head’s Office! It had to be Bel! Imagine what they could do with some of the stuff in there!” James surveyed his two friends, intent on gauging their reactions.

     They had both stopped eating, but Victoire looked decidedly less pleased than Teddy. Victoire gave James a skeptical look, “What exactly _did_ you hear, James?”

     Giving the conversation a quick mental rundown, James found a depressing lack of details to help his case, so he decided on evasion. “I don’t remember _exactly_ what they said, but she was definitely going on about how they were taking something tonight. We have to be there!” James turned to Teddy. His god-brother was usually much easier to convince.

     Teddy had been mulling the conversation over in his mind, and came to a quick decision. “Well…even if it does turn out to be nothing, it is an excuse to try out the invisibility cloak. And if they are actually planning to take a book, they're usually in the restricted section for a reason, aren't they? James, didn’t your father tell us one time about one with a screaming bloke stuck in it? Besides—think about it—if we actually caught the people who managed to break into the Head’s office, we’d be legends!”

     Victoire was looking less happy by the second as she became outnumbered. “Oh, come off it,” she said crossly, “Do you two idiots actually believe a first year managed to break into McGonagall’s office? It’s like the most heavily guarded room in the entire castle. It probably has booby traps and, you know, other things!” The looks on the boys’ faces told her she was getting nowhere, and she let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, but if the screaming book tries to eat us, I’m going to make sure it gets you two first!”

     The rest of the day went by in a blur, at least until they were waiting in the common room for everyone else to go to bed. Two fifth years seemed determined to play exploding snap until dawn, but they finally packed it in around two. James tugged the cloak out from under the chair, where it had been hiding inside his book bag. “Come on, come on, come on!” he hissed, hurrying to cover all three of them—a cramped and difficult job.

     “Ouch, those are my toes, you dolt!” whispered Victoire as they clambered out the portrait hole, past the sleeping fat lady. They made fairly good time to the library—stopping only once to let Filch’s cat, Mrs. Huxley, go past—but James was still anxious. Bel could have been there and gone a hundred times before they even made it to the library. His plan of conducting a stake-out for the entire night was ruined.

     Just as they came to the entrance, they were bowled over by three running figures, dressed all in black, who barreled past them.The three cloaked figures must not have noticed the extra obstacle in their path as they rushed out of the doors, because they continued pelting down the hallway. James, Teddy, and Victoire landed on the floor in a tangled heap, thoroughly immobilized by the folds of shimmering silk.

     “That must have been them. We missed her!” moaned James, no longer bothering to confine his voice to a whisper. He struggled to his feet, dragging the other two with him, and peered forlornly down the corridor.

     “Since we've come this far, we might as well check to see if they took anything,” said Victoire.

     They ventured into the darkened library, the bookshelves looming over them and casting creepy shadows in the faint moonlight. The bronze Restricted Section plaque gleamed faintly above the gate, which creaked enough to make them wince as Teddy lifted the latch and pushed open the door. James lit his wand as they walked along the first shelf and then the next. After several minutes of silence, and in the comforting light of their wands, the group felt secure enough to slip out from under the invisibility cloak and walk along separate shelves looking for gaps.

     “The quicker we find out what they took,” began James, stuffing the cloak back into his bag. He continued along the shelves, looking for gaps for several minutes—the restricted section was much larger than he had ever imagined—it felt like it would take forever to search the entire thing. Then he heard a short scream and a muffled thump. James’ heart raced in his chest as he ran toward the source of the noise, but he was not the first to arrive.

     As he rounded another shelf, he saw Teddy pulling Victoire up off the floor asking, “Are you okay?”

     Victoire was looking pasty and even more frightened than James felt, but she replied shakily, “I’m fine, I just tripped in the dark. I wasn't looking where I was going.”

     His heart finally returning to a normal pace, he noticed the mess on the floor, and his blood froze solid. Books were strewn everywhere, Victoire must have knocked them off when she fell. James felt sick, some of the pages were ripped, and Pince was going to mount a manhunt.

     Teddy was also surveying the damage unhappily. “Geez Vic, I know its dark, but you're not usually this clumsy. We have to get out of here!”

     Victoire stared at the pile on the floor, “No, this _is_ what I tripped on. And don’t call me that!” She claimed to her feet, and her eyes suddenly widened at something behind James’s head.

     “Well, well, well,” said Jacob as he clamped his hand on the collar of Teddy’s robes. “Potter, Lupin, and Weasley. Why am I not surprised to find you here? And what a mess you've made. I knew there were troublemakers in here after the disruption earlier. I’m sure that Filch would just love to make your acquaintance.” Jacob dragged Teddy off still happily berating them.

     James and Victoire followed, and James nearly had a heart attack. _The invisibility cloak is still in my bag. If Filch sees it we’re all dead!_ With a heavy heart he pulled the bag off and kicked it under one of the chairs on the way out of the library. _With any luck I can come back for it tomorrow before anyone takes it, but anything is better than letting Filch have it._

     The Head Boy led them down several staircases into a room just above the dungeons that they had never seen before. It was filled with filing cabinets. One drawer was marked _Fred and George Weasley_. With a broad grin, Jacob said, “Wait here,” before disappearing. Victoire slid down the wall to sit on the floor, and James and Teddy only had a few seconds to eye another drawer marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous,_ when Mrs. Huxley bounded into the room, and both boys flinched back. They had heard stories of another cat from a generation ago, and this one appeared to be identical, down to the mangey fur and lamp eyes. Filch would not be far behind.

     Indeed, soon the sounds of a jovial conversation could be heard coming closer down the corridor. The raspy tones of Filch could be heard, “Ohh I just knew that Potter would land in my hands soon. I wish I could have hung his father by the thumbs, but perhaps McGonagall will let me chain Potter up for a few weeks to learn his lesson…”

     James suppressed a shudder as Filch limped into the office. He was reasonably certain that McGonagall would not allow chains. Probably.

     Filch showed his nasty teeth as he said, “Out of bounds after midnight, destruction of school property…that’s worth three detentions. You will spend every night for the rest of this week polishing every piece in the trophy room…yes I’ve got you this time. And two hundred points from Gryffindor.” He turned to a little stack of cards on his desk, and filled out three.James noticed with a sinking feeling that one of the cards was deposited into a drawer marked _Potters_. This was the last straw for James. “Hey! Jacob was out of bounds too! Why isn’t he getting punished?” He shot a glare at the older boy, who did not seem the least concerned. In fact, his smile appeared to become even more smug.

     “Yes, yes, five points from Slytherin for being out of bounds. One hundred points to Slytherin for catching these three,” said Filch nastily.

     “That’s not fair!” spluttered James. As Jacob was dragging him backwards out of the office.

     “Better be careful boy!” barked Filch, “I know you were somehow involved in breaking into the Headmistress’s office. Whenever something goes wrong around here, it always has something to do with you Potters. I just can’t prove it yet. But when I do, the Headmistress will just have to expel all of you!”

_This day just keeps getting better and better,_ thought James. _Blamed twice for things I didn’t do, and Bel gets away without a scratch._


	8. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Harry.

James was in a cross mood as he left the common room. He was tired of Bel, her lackeys, and all the trouble they had been causing him. His mind was constantly filled with meandering thoughts about what she had wanted to steal and her impending plans. He was so sick of them, the mere thought disgusted him. James rarely went half an hour without jabbering on about something suspicious Bel did or a look Scorpius had sent him from across the dining hall. Teddy and Victoire would always nod off during this part, passing notes under the table while James vehemently ranted on, completely oblivious to his friends’ lack of interest. While they supported James in the notion that Bel was not quite right, his myriad of fervent rants had become mildly obsessive. In James’s mind, almost anything beyond perfectly normal could manage to be accredited to Bel through an intricate web that was thoroughly impossible to retrace unless you were James himself. The only thing that distracted him from his repulsively repetitive declarations of Bel’s every wrong-doing was waiting for a letter back from his father. It seemed as if every single person knew who he was, or at least his father, except him! At first, it had been annoying but now James was downright infuriated. He couldn’t act like he knew without making a fool out of himself and he couldn’t ask anyone without sounding like a complete numbskull. Before every meal, he went straight to the Owlery to search for either Eleusis or Millicent, neither of whom had returned yet.

He found that he had to spend immense amounts of time roaming the castle or in the library to take his mind off the impending knowledge. The day after the library break-in, he had come back for his bag that contained the cloak and observed that Pince had put many new precautions on the library to prevent burglars. It seemed nearly impossible that anyone could steal anything from the library ever again.

James was just a few steps from the common room, on his way to detention when he caught up with Teddy and Victoire. They were accompanied by a tall second year named Liam Pepin. Liam was lean and muscular, light eyes and short blonde hair. He seemed to be vainly attempting to court Victoire. He had started this process towards the beginning of the year, among many others who admired Victoire’s beauty and kind heart. James and Teddy referred to it as _“Torie’s String of Star-Crossed Lovers,”_ but, they found Liam to be incredibly more annoying and persistent than any of the others. As James walked forward, he caught Liam’s foot, causing him to trip over his robes. Victoire sent him a look of relief before calling out to Liam, “Sorry Liam, we really must be going now!”

“You know Vicky, you’re quite picky with all the lads,” Teddy joked.

“Oh, shut up, and don’t call me that!” Victoire fumed.

“What? You don't like what I call you, Picky Vicky?” Teddy roared with laughter, changing his features to mirror an enraged Victoire.

“Fine, Edward,” she hissed.

Teddy suddenly became serious, “Alright, alright, I’m done, just don’t say that again.”

“What, you don’t like what I call you, Edward?” Victoire said in a mocking tone.

“Okay, I get it, I’m sorry, just don’t say it again!” Teddy pleaded.

James smirked at his friends, “Both of you, calm down. You lovebirds better start getting along before Filch skins us all for talking.”

At this remark, both of them turned red and looked down at the stone floors. Once they reached Filch’s office, they saw he was inside seeming to be napping with Mrs. Huxley’s tail swatting his face. Teddy knocked on the door, receiving no reaction from a snoring Filch and a glare from Mrs. Huxley. Eventually, the three entered the office, dropping a stack of books on the desk to wake a sleeping Filch. He jolted upward in response, sending Mrs. Huxley to the ground with a growl of protest.

“So you three showed up, eh? First thing, wouldn’t want you to have too much fun, you’ll be split up. Potter, you’ll be in the kitchens, dishes only.” Filch grinned, “Weasley, to the first floor girls’ lavatory. Have a chat with your dear friend Myrtle.”

Victoire paled. Myrtle had always been jealous of her and had never been very kind.

“Lupin… hmm… where to put you? I say the trophy room. I better see every bloody trophy sparkling when you’re finished.”

“How long will that be, exactly?” Victoire asked.

“You’re done when I say you’re done, girl.” Filch shooed them with one hand, Mrs. Huxley occupying the other, “Get on now, move briskly. Don’t waste time or it’ll be fifteen more points from Gryffindor! Each!”

James scurried down the staircase to the basement, near where the map had told him the kitchens were located. He knew he was in the right hall but he did not have the map with him and simply could not figure out where the kitchen entrance was located. James retraced the both sides of the hallway, but the only thing he found near the right location was a painting of a fruit bowl. _“You have to tickle the pear.”_ James swore he heard a voice. However when he looked around, not a soul was present. Just then, James felt a tug on his trousers. He looked down to see a house elf with concerned brown eyes and drooping ears. He assumed it was a girl since it appeared to have feminine features, but you couldn't really tell.

“If you’re looking to get into the kitchens, you have to tickle the pear,” she repeated.

James nodded, a bit skeptically, but he did as he was told. He reached up to the portrait of the fruit and tickled the pear. It jumped around excitedly, giggling and James smiled at the elf. Then, the pear transformed into a green doorknob. James looked back to the elf, who gestured towards the handle. James turned it cautiously and stepped inside the hallway. The elf walked in front of him, motioning with her hand.

“I’m Winky. You can follow me.” she bowed.

James, slightly confused since the only house-elf he had ever met, Kreature, did not bow, bowed in response, making Winky giggle, “I’m James, James Potter.”

James stuck out his hand to Winky whose eyes grew as wide as saucers. Her hands shook as she held on to his own and she bowed again, the joy spreading all the way to her ears. A part of James was afraid she would explode.

“W-Would you b-b-be knowing of M-Mr. Harry Potter?” Winky whispered.

“Actually, he’s my dad,” James explained.

Upon hearing this, Winky feinted, then stood up immediately. The same smile was on her face when she then started hopping about the passage, squealing as she did so. She next grabbed James’s hand and started running, still squealing and grinning madly. They then entered the main kitchen, a wonderland of stoves, pots, pans, and every other appliance imaginable. Many elves were working feverishly throughout the sizable room. By the time they arrived, James was still confused about the power of the Potter name and Winky was _still_ psychotically excited.

“THERE’S A POTTER IN THE KITCHENS! THERE’S A POTTER IN THE KITCHENS!” Winky yelled.

All at once, dozens of house elves turned to James. They all seemed to be sizing him up and it looked to them that he was, in fact, a Potter. Before he could blink, he was being offered at least ten different dishes and refreshments. His mouth watered and he yearned to accept but then he remembered what he was there to do.

“I would love to eat all this food. It looks, erm, delicious! It looks delicious but I’m actually here for detention, I’m here to clean dishes.” James murmured.

As if they had not heard him, he was promptly forced into a stool where a platter of brisket, treacle tart and a glass of pumpkin juice were all placed in front of him.

“Mr. Harry Potter was a great friend to us house elves. Mr. Potter’s son…”

“It’s James,” he stated.

“Mr. James Potter will not work in these kitchens. Mr. Potter shall have what he likes, everything he likes! I heard that Mr. James Potter was coming this year but Weese could not believe it! It is an honor to serve you Mr. Potter, Weese is forever at your service, Mr. James Potter.” a cook named Weese rambled.

“You all are quite kind but that’s not necessary, and you can just call me James,” he insisted.

“Of course, Mr. James, but we must not let you work. Us will not let you work in this kitchen!” a different elf repeated.

After much protest, James decided it would be easier to just sit and eat then fight the very determined kitchen staff. They asked many questions about his father and his Aunt Hermione, though they didn’t seem to like her or a certain “S.P.E.W” very much. The elves were positively thrilled at the thought of two more Potters joining in coming years and it seemed that like Winky, they were on the brink of becoming explosive. By the time Filch released him, it was nearing two in the morning and he had nearly fallen asleep. He was so full and tired from chatting with the inquisitive elves. When he turned to leave, every single elf bowed to him.

“Goodbye, Mr. James Potter! James is welcome in the kitchens anytime he likes,” Weese shouted.

James bowed back to the elves, smiling broadly.“Thank you for having me. I had a delightful time.”

As he turned to leave he could hear them all whispering. “ _Mr James Potter looks much his father.” “Mr. James is so polite.” “I hope James Potter returns!” “Mr. James Potter bows to us! TO US!”_ The elves, though relentless, were quite the entertaining way to spend a detention. Once he reached the common room, he did not see Teddy or Victoire. James assumed that they were already up in their rooms and he followed in suit. He slept as soon as his head touched his pillow.

✶✶✶

 

Bel, Cat and Scorpius were early on their way potions the next morning. After their failed attempt to snatch the book, they had decided to lay low for a while. This meant they were more careful about the frequency and location of their hushed conversations, so, the triad drew little attention to themselves and focused more on their studies, despite Cat’s most ardent protests.

“If I spend one more evening with my head jammed in some book - especially for studying - I swear I will burn every damned piece of parchment in Hogwarts!” Cat threatened.

Scorpius rolled his eyes, “I don’t think you can go one morning without threatening something.”

Cat shrugged, grinning to herself smugly. Once the students walked into the potions classroom, they saw Thorne had just barely legibly scribbled the steps to the Forgetfulness Potion on the board. As Bel took her seat behind a large cauldron, she began writing down the steps and ingredients in her own notebook. Once she was done, she started on the potion, ignoring Thorne’s mundane lecturing.

“Ms. Black, since you seem so interested in constructing your potion and so bored with the safety precautions, please do tell me - what you are missing from that potion?” Thorne questioned.

Bel’s cheeks reddened as she scanned the board quickly before finding the missing ingredient. Bel was fair at potions and found the ingredient quickly.

“Lethe River Water,” Bel chirped.

“That’s correct, and since you’re so astute, why don’t you fetch it from the store-cupboard, Ms. Black?” Thorne asked resentfully.

Bel nodded and stood quietly, bowing her head. She was not doing so well with her plan to blend in and was near abandoning it. _No one would expect a first year to break into the restricted section anyway,_ she thought. All the secrecy was quickly growing annoying to her. _Also, they found Potter and his friends in there! Everyone probably thinks it was him._ She wondered why James had been there that night but couldn’t come up with a good reason, other than he seemed to always show up places. On her way to the store-cupboard, she saw Jacob Zagyva strolling by. He sent Bel a charming smile, having formed a certain fondness for her, apparently enough to forego turning them in to Filch.

“Hello, Ms. Black,” the Head Boy waved.

Bel waved back, faking a grin before continuing on her way to the stores. Once she arrived, she opened the huge cabinetry in search of the vials of Lethe River Water. She looked around the usually well-organized stores and saw they were in disarray. The stores were usually thoroughly well stocked and Thorne had them organized quite methodically. After finally finding the right bottle, she realized the stores were not just sloppily organized, they were also missing many flasks and ingredients. Upon this realization, Bel clutched the bottle tightly and ran back to the classroom.

“Ah, Ms. Black, how pleasant of you to return to us,” Thorne remarked.

“My apologies for the wait Professor,” Bel spoke, “but Sir, I think someone broke into the stores! The cabinets were quite disheveled and many vials seemed to be missing.”

Thorne nodded to Bel, seeming alarmed, “Alright, everyone continue working. I’ll be back shortly.”

James thought this was all too coincidental. First, she was in the library looking to take a book, now she was in the store-cupboard when ingredients go missing. It had to be connected!

 

✶✶✶

 

James was discouraged as he left the Owlery that day. It seemed that his owl was still missing. _Maybe Dad’s decided not to tell me! Maybe he wants to keep me in the dark forever,_ James feared. He pushed the thought from his mind as he made his way to the Great Hall. Once there, he took a seat next to Teddy and Victoire in the hall. He explained everything that had happened the night before with the house elves and what had happened that morning with Bel.

“It must have been Bel! She was obviously trying to cover her tracks when she told Thorne. Don’t you guys think it’s a little too close together?” James reasoned.

Victoire looked to Teddy and sighed, “As much as I hate to indulge you, I think you have a case. It is pretty suspicious that she was in the library _and_ at the stores.

“Okay, so I have an idea,” James whispered. “I’ve seen Bel, Scorpius and Cat toting around a lot of books about the Second Wizarding War and a lot of dark wizards for a couple weeks. I’m thinking we go late tonight, check out some of the same books and see what they tell us.”

Teddy nodded, “sounds good to me. Did you get a letter back from your Dad yet?”

James shook his head, “No I think he’s ignoring it, or at least putting it off. Why do you ask?”

“Well, last night while I was in the trophy room, I noticed how many were your dad’s and your grandfather’s… mostly Quidditch but also for service to the school. What really got me was that your Dad won the Triwizard Tournament! Did you know that?”

James scowled, “Well, at this point I’m surprised that I know anything about him at all. Wait, isn’t that only for seventh years? He wasn’t even here in his seventh year because of the war. How could he have even been in it?”

Teddy shrugged, “No clue. Another one that showed up a decent amount was Tom Riddle, he was a Head Boy and had a Medal for Magical Merit, all that rubbish. The bloke’s name sounded familiar.”

“I’ve heard it before, too. We can search for it when we go to the library,” Victoire added.

“So Torie, what happened with Myrtle?” Teddy chuckled.

Victoire visibly paled, “Oh, it was awful! She spent the whole night splashing water on the floor, telling me to clean it andwhen I did, she started crying about being ugly. Then, I would calm her down for about five minutes, she’d talk about Uncle Harry, and then the whole process started again. The girl’s absolutely dreadful. No wonder no one ever visits her.”

 

✶✶✶

 

Bel tucked her thick black hair behind her ears as she studied diligently. She found that this act made her feel less distracted, more calm even. She poured over notes for an upcoming Transfiguration evaluation where she would be transforming a small object into at least one bird using the Avifors Spell. She and Scorpius had been attempting the spell for several days and making extremely slow progress, if any. After at least fifty tries that night, Bel collapsed onto the green carpeting by Scorpius’s feet, letting out a low growl.

Cat came and stood over her. “I thought I was the only animal here.”

Bel sighed, “I just can’t manage to make one blasted quill turn into a bird.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “Bel, it’s really not that difficult if you just follow the formula.”

Scorpius scoffed, “If it’s so easy, Kitten, then why don’t you give it a go?”

With that, Cat recited the incantation flawlessly, moving her wand in a swift, sideways figure eight. A blue light flashed from her wand and the quill arose, forming a small flock of birds that flew around the Slytherin common room. After a quick flight, the birds melded together and the quill landed perfectly onto the table. An exhausted Scorpius looked to Cat in astonishment. For the skills she lacked in Astronomy, she made up for in her penchant for Transfiguration.

“Alright, I’m exhausted. I can’t do this anymore,” Scorpius humphed before saying his goodbyes and heading upstairs for the night.

James, Teddy and Victoire had ran straight to the library from dinner. James was huddled under a thick stack of books that he had heard Bel collecting. Once he had found a few of the titles, he distributed them among the three. Immediately, they sat down and got cracking. James himself was switching between _The War ofthe Century_ and _Modern Dangers of the Dark Arts_. After what felt like hours of searching, they were no closer to uncovering Bel’s plan.

“There’s not a bloody thing here,” Victoire grumbled.

James scowled. “Whatever she’s planning, the books don’t give any of it away. There all about the dark arts and what happened during them, not about _how_ anything bloody happened.”

“Checking them out won’t do any good, we have no clue where to begin,” Teddy reasoned.

James nodded, “You’re right, but _Modern Dangers of the Dark Arts_ did mention that Riddle bloke. I think he was involved in The War.”

 

✶✶✶

 

Bel spent the morning beside Cat, packing for their Christmas trip home. They had both decided to leave all their books at school, which made for a much lighter load. The first years’ professors had decided to be kind and had given a minuscule amount of homework over the break. Bel was quite grateful, _this mean that I can spend as much time as possible doing my own research!_ She schemed many plans as she packed, barely noticing Snowball’s many attempts to be packed away in her suitcase.

“I think I just may be able to get away with burning all my skirts when I get home! Then, they’ll have to let me wear something else when I get back… at least for a few days.” Cat speculated, shoving all her skirts unceremoniously into her trunk.

Bel rolled her eyes as she packed away her own possessions, “Kitten, this burning project of yours worries me.”

Cat giggled in response as the pair made their way down to the Great Hall. By this time, the girls were used to the ever-changing staircases and leaped over the missing steps with ease. They had made a game of it as they made their way to the hall each morning, knowing that Scorpius was already there. He was not an early riser by choice but the food always made him seem to appear.

When they had almost reached their destination, the duosaw James retreating from the Owlery, letter clutched in hand. He seemed very entranced by it, not even bothering to look up as he tore it’s seal. As a result, he barreled into them, causing all three to tumble onto the stone floor.

“Ouch! Watch where you’re going, Potter!” Cat shouted.

“Sorry,” he responded, already on his feet.

“Not even a famous scowl today? Not even an evil eye my way?” Bel grimaced.

James waved them off, “Not today! My apologies!”

Both girls chuckled as they watched James continue to stumble down the hall.

“Would you look at that,” Cat mused, “Potter’s even in a good mood.”

“He must have been hit with a sudden wave of Christmas spirit!” Bel assumed.

“More like a tsumani, since you know, the unpleasant little sap hates our guts and all,” Cat smirked.

“Well then,” Bel cheered as she reached the table, “To the power of Christmas spirit!”

She clicked glasses with Cat and Scorpius who muttered, “To the p’wur ofth Chrithmus ’pirit!” through his mouthful of sausage.

 

✶✶✶

 

James had been dying to read the letter all day. He carried it in his trouser pockets, taking it out and putting it back a hundred times over. He had tried to read it in three different classes but was too focused on school work and gave up entirely. He knew he would want time to react to whatever answers the letter finally gave him. So, after dinner, he had promptly left Victoire and Teddy at the table and sprinted back to the Common Room faster than ever before in his life. He tipped his head to the Fat Lady and in his urgency, just barely managed to sputter out the password. Finally, he reached the common room and settled down on a couch in the corner of the room, a location reclusive enough to make him feel as if no one was looking over is shoulder as he finally read the page.

 

Dear James,

 

I am regretful that this letter took so long to get back to you, for it is quite difficult to find the right words to write something of this depth. I would also like to apologize for the amount of time you have been kept in the dark. I should have told you as soon as you arrived there, or even before you left, and now it is almost Christmas! I guess the time has escaped me. I want you to know that I never lied to you about anything that happened. I just did not tell you the full truth because I did not think you were old enough or mature enough to hold such a large legacy on your shoulders. Until I was eleven Albus Dumbledore, for whom your brother is named, withheld this information from me so that I myself grew up in the most normal way possible under the circumstances. As you know, I grew up raised by muggles and was not even aware that I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday. Now that you are of the age when I learned the truth, I will bestow it upon you. However, this will be a summary and I will complete my tale at length and answer any questions you have when you return home this Christmas.

When I was born, our world was in the midst of the First Wizarding War. It was prophesied that the Dark Lord would have to take my own life to continue his. My parents, James and Lily, were some of the leading heroes bravely battling Lord Voldemort. When I was barely more than an infant, Voldemort stormed our house and both my parents lost their lives to him in attempts to keep me safe. When he in turn tried to kill me, I was protected by the utmost power of my mother’s love, a powerful magic which I still find hard to understand. Although the power of her love saved my life, it left me with a lightning-shaped scar, and the Dark Lord was not seen again for over a decade. My surviving the Dark Lord’s curse was unheard of, especially because I was a defenseless child and so Igained the title of “The Chosen One” and also ”The Boy Who Lived.”

Over the course of my time at Hogwarts, even in assumed death, Lord Voldemort was still the most feared wizard of all time. During my first year of the school, he returned, sharing the body of one of my professors in hopes of finding the sorcerer’s stone and rising to power once again. I defeated him at the end of my first year, with the help of your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. In the next few years, he eventually assumed a new body with the goals to take over once again and destroy yours truly. Over my six years at the school, he attempted to kill me about once a year and how I survived is still a mystery to me. However, during what would have been my final year at Hogwarts, there was a battle between Voldemort and his Death Eaters and myself accompanied by many Hogwarts students and The Order of the Phoenix (an organization I will later explain) . This is now know as the Battle of Hogwarts, which I ended by killing Lord Voldemort using the twin cores of our wands and the backlash of his own spell. My actions - though I would not have defeated him without the years of assistance from numerous others - ended the Second Wizarding War, and in turn, all these things earned me the title and status that other people seem to enjoy pointing out. I encourage you not to be wrapped idea or to get a big head. I have raised you to understand that being a part of this family does not make you entitled. On a kinder note, I apologize again for my discretion and promise to explain at length when you return.

With Love,

Dad

P.S. If I forget to tell you later, never use the name Tom Riddle in front of your mother.

**Author's Note:**

> The authors of this book have made one intentional departure from established cannon as of March 2016. The birth of The Potter Children has been moved up a few years to facilitate the plot. In this Fanfic, only the books and the movies where they do not conflict with the books are considered canon, but details from Pottermore, interviews, and other sources will be included where possible.  
> Full work available at https://belladonnablack.wordpress.com/. Chapters posted every Friday.


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